Behind Closed Doors
by Manda-chan
Summary: This is a collection of mature stories centered around the Fakir x Ahiru pairing. Each are one-shots and generally unrelated to each other unless otherwise stated. They may range from canon-based, to AU, and beyond. Hope you enjoy them!
1. A Lesson in Health

...Please don't kill me. I KNOW there's other things I should be writing and working on, but I made something on LJ to exercise my writing muse and also get some of the other Fakiru fan-writers involved. It's a kink meme (and no, I'm not kidding. You can find it here if you're interested in taking part: http(colon slash slash)twilight-marks(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)652(dot)html ). Anyway, the first request was the first one I filled out and it was as follows:

Prompter: Greatcloudninja

Kinks: Role-playing, FemDom, and Teacher Fetish

Prompt: For the first time, Ahiru proves to be better at a subject than Fakir is. While she's tutoring him, he lets his mind wander just a bit too much.

Rating: NC-17 (Not joking, folks. This is your last chance to turn back if you can't handle it.)

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**A Lesson In Health**

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"...I still can't believe you asked _me_ to tutor you."

Green eyes fixed on the young woman standing in front of him before turning to glance out the window. "Hn. If I have to go through with this, I'll be damned if I'm stuck with some goody-twoshoes know-it-all snob that I want nothing to do with, much less pay any attention to."

Ahiru sighed, twirling a lock of her red hair with one finger. "Even though by some miracle I'm doing better in this subject than you, I doubt I would be very good at explaining anything."

He was silent for a moment, watching out of the corner of his eye as she tugged the flaming strands of hair - right near the area of her chest, where his gaze lingered briefly. "Maybe if you stopped making excuses, you could quit wasting time."

At that, she bristled visibly, cheeks tinting pink as she slammed the textbook down on the desk he was seated at. "_Fine_." She patted the cover of the book with one hand. "So show me what you're having problems with."

He glanced lazily from her face to the textbook and back again. "Nothing specific."

Oh, she was getting frustrated! He kept acting like this whole thing was more of a waste of his time than _hers_. Didn't he realize that she was taking time out to help him? Wasn't he grateful at all? "Fakir! You said you're _failing_ the class! That means you're having problems! And I can't help you if you won't show me what you're having trouble with!"

Hm. When she bobbed up and down in irritation like that, her chest kind of bounced along with her. But any further musing he could do on that subject was brought to a halt as she turned on heel and went to fetch something off of the professor's desk. He sighed, propping his arm up on the desk and leaning his head against his open hand. "I'm not failing because I'm having trouble, moron. I don't care about the subject, period."

"That's obvious," she scoffed as she dug around through a pile of papers on the desk. "You couldn't possibly care about health the way you take care of yourself. Always drinking coffee, over-working yourself, eating poorly, staying up all hours of the night and looking like the walking dead the next day... you could probably _benefit_ from actually paying attention in Health class."

Fakir made an irritated sound through his nose. "Benefit? Give me a break. It's a stupid class that has absolutely nothing to do with my area of study. I don't know whose bright idea it was to make the subject_ required _for a writing degree, but it's a big waste of time."

She scowled at him from over her shoulder. "_Everything_ is a waste of time to you, Mr. I've-got-more-important-things-to-do-than-anything-anyone-else-wants-me-to-do." Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she sifted through another small pile of papers. "I know it was around here somewhere..." Her blue eyes suddenly lit up in recognition, extracting one of the sheets from the stack. "Aha! Here it is! We can start with--Whoops!" Losing her grip on the inked paper, she groped unsuccessfully for the page as it drifted down and landed on the instructor's chair. Instead of doing the sensible thing, and going around the desk to pick it up, Ahiru arched her body over the expanse of the wooden surface, short arm reaching out for the fallen paper.

"Can you hold anything for a minute _without_ dropping it?" He drawled in an almost bored tone that betrayed the rapt attention he was giving her wriggling figure on top of the desk. Her skirt was hiked up from sliding over the top, giving him a nice view of the back of her thighs. And if she leaned forward just a little bit more...

"Gotcha!" Ahiru declared triumphantly, fingertips finally clasping around the edge of the elusive paper. She quickly moved from the top of the desk and righted herself, smoothing her skirt off and smiling in the dark-haired boy's direction as she presented the paper. "We'll go over this stuff, first! It was on the latest quiz."

Fakir rolled his eyes, inexplicably irritated that his observation was cut short. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

Her smile faltered slightly. Couldn't he at least _feign_ a little interest in this session? She was half-tempted to pick up the book from the desktop and hit him on the head with it. '_But this is normal for Fakir_,' she reminded herself inwardly before she could allow the urge to manifest. '_If he's not making rude comments, it would be kind of weird. And even if he's going to be a grump about this, __**I**__ don't have to be_.'

With that thought in mind, she spun on heel and approached the blackboard, passing the paper over to her left hand and picking up a piece of broken chalk with her right. "Now pay attention, Fakir. The more you cooperate, the faster this will go." And with that she began to copy the first part of the parchment onto the board.

The dark-haired young man found it slightly amusing that she was attempting to teach_ him _something for a change. Usually it was the other way around. And even though he already knew she'd be poor at this, it was worth it to see her try hard to accomplish something she was determined to do. Fakir watched from his seated position as she jotted the guidelines from the quiz review page onto the blackboard with her rather poor penmanship, his eyes beginning to wander away from the white words and trailing up her arm, over the curve of her shoulder, down her back and beyond.

Ahiru was still rather duck-like and short, not that he ever expected (or wanted) that to change, but she had obviously grown. And with growth came undeniable development in the young redhead. Though she remained thin, she had filled out a little more in all of the right places. Her curves accentuated her small frame and gave her a womanly appeal that Fakir couldn't help but find attractive. _Very_ attractive.

'_No, now is not the time_,' he scolded himself silently, forcing his gaze away from any further 'study' of his tutor. '_If I sit here ogling her like an idiot, she's going to notice sooner or later_.' Turning his gaze to the back of her head where her ponytail was bobbing with her movement, he frowned. '_Then again...sometimes I wish she __**would**__. Can she really be that damn naive after all these years_?'

But he knew the answer to that already. She wasn't going to change.

With a mildly disappointed sigh, he leaned heavily on his arm and turned his green eyes back toward the window, which reflected the light of the quickly-setting sun. He could vaguely hear the chik-chaking of the chalk against the board, lulling him into a half-dazed state as he gazed at the fiery colors of the sky.

"_Hey_! You're not paying attention! FAKIR!"

He started, nearly losing his balance in the process. "Geh! What's your problem? I was just waiting for you to finish--" His words cut off as soon as he turned to face her, noting with surprise that she was already looming over his desk. And the expression she was wearing was unlike any look he'd received from her before.

"Fakir..." Her voice held a warning edge to it as she leaned in a little closer. "Do you want _detention_?"

He blinked once. Twice. Three times. Was she..._teasing_ him? He snorted. "...Very funny, moron."

"Oh, but I wasn't joking," she assured him with an almost playful smile. He merely raised an eyebrow in response, wondering what in the world Ahiru was trying to pull. "Bad boys who don't pay attention in class get punished!" She reached out and gently touched the exposed area of his neck, trailing one finger up and pausing under his chin to tilt his eyes up to meet hers. "So be good for me, okay?" And with a wink she disengaged, whirling around and heading back toward the blackboard, hips swaying as she walked.

Fakir felt his entire face grow incredibly warm. '_What the hell was __**that**_!?'

Ahiru, oblivious to the effect she was having on her "student", hummed to herself, discarding the parchment piece carelessly onto the professor's desk. She pulled at the collar of her uniform jacket, looking questioningly toward Fakir. "Don't you think it's a little too hot in here? I'm feeling a bit over-heated."

He could only stare, stunned, as she proceeded to slowly undo the buttons of her blazer one by one - right in full view of his wide-eyed gaze. And once the buttons were released, she slipped out of the coat, draping it over the lone chair behind the teacher's desk. Sighing in a pleased manner, she grinned, running her hands down the white cotton blouse to smooth it out. "Much better!"

Any curves the uniform blazer had been hiding were now openly bared to view, the stretch of the fabric over her chest making it clear that the shirt was just a little too _small_ for her. Fakir shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his temperature having risen enough that he almost felt like stripping off his jacket, too. "Ahiru...why--"

"Ah-ah!" She cut him off fluidly, wagging a finger back and forth. "If the student has a question, he must raise his hand first. And..." Reaching up behind her head, the young woman pulled the tie that held her hair up in its ponytail, un-binding the long tresses and allowing them to flow down over her back and shoulders. "It's_ Miss _Ahiru, understood? You should be respectful to your teacher."

Fakir was silent for a long moment, mouth hanging open, completely baffled by the redhead's strange and uncharacteristic behavior. She couldn't possibly be _serious_ about this nonsense! He leaned forward in his chair, half-rising from the seat. "Alright, that's enough of--"

"Read what it says beside number one on the board please, Fakir."

"Stop interrupting m--"

"_Read it_."

He stared at her. Was that a sharp edge of authority in her voice? Did she just give him a _command_? Something in him stirred. It wasn't anger, exactly, but it was warm, and quickly spreading. She sounded..._sexy_ when she spoke like that. And almost as if moving by a will not entirely under his control, Fakir reseated himself, turning his eyes to the board obediently and opening his mouth to speak. "A healthy heart is very important."

"That's right!" She readily agreed, the smile having returned to her features as though it never left. "And do you know why?" Fakir shook his head and she chuckled, slowly approaching his vicinity. "Then let's get started with your lesson, shall we?"

Before he could inquire about what she meant, the redhead reached out and took one of his hands, placing it on her chest and holding the appendage firmly in place with both of her hands. His green eyes immediately broadened to the size of saucers, face flushing a violent shade of red as he sputtered. "W--Wh--What are you doing!?"

He attempted to pull his captive hand away from its forced groping of her left breast, but she stubbornly held it in place, closing her eyes. "Do you feel that, Fakir?"

What kind of question was that? Of course he felt it - the soft flesh under his fingertips, smooth beneath the covering of her shirt, and a small nub hard against the palm of his hand...

Another wave of blood rushed to his head. Wait. Wait. _WAIT_. She wasn't wearing anything under her shirt!? What was she trying to do to him!?

Ahiru gently pressed the hand more flushly to her chest, as though entirely oblivious to Fakir's anxious and over-heated state. "That's a healthy heartbeat. Doesn't it feel _nice_?"

His fingers twitched, itching to hold, grasp, and fondle the mound laying tantalizingly beneath. However, before he could work up the nerve to follow through, she cupped his hand and moved it off of her breast, placing it back down on the desk. He opened his mouth to protest the relocation, but snapped his jaw shut when she unexpectedly scooted right on top his desk (carelessly knocking his textbook to the floor in the process), legs hanging off of the side as she leaned in close. And without warning, her fingers latched to either side of his head, pulling him forward and turning his head to the side just far enough to position his ear where his hand had been placed just moments before. His cheek pressed up against the curve of her left breast, feeling her inviting warmth even through the cloth barrier that separated direct skin contact. The soft thump-thumping sound of her heart echoed distantly in his head, nearly drowned out by the heavy and loud pounding of his own.

First his hand, now his _face_--she couldn't really be unaware of what she was doing at this point, could she? ...But this _was_ Ahiru. Even if she was acting weirder than usual, she seemed to believe these actions were completely innocent.

"Mine's a healthy and happy heartbeat," she declared, finally releasing his head. He nearly wobbled backward, face as bright as a ripe tomato. The redhead tapped a finger to her chin in mock-thought before settling her blue eyes on him, their depths reflecting something that might have almost looked _mischievous_ if he didn't know better. "Why don't we compare?"

Once again, she gave him no time to get so much as a word in edgewise before she sprung into action, her right hand gliding down over the fabric of his jacket and pausing over the area of his heart. She frowned, tugging at the material. "This just won't do. I can hardly feel anything through these layers! You'll have to take it off."

She wanted him...to strip his blazer off. At this point, Fakir wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. Even if she didn't realize what she was doing, he couldn't prevent himself from getting aroused by her little "lesson". And if he didn't stop her now, his self-control was likely to fly right out the window.

But the real question was, did he even _want_ to stop her?

Ahiru's small fingers took his silence and lack of resistance as an invitation, quickly undoing the buttons that held the uniform coat together and proceeding to maneuver the dark cloth down and off of his shoulders. He wordlessly assisted by shrugging out of the blazer entirely, allowing it to bunch down over the chair and again she placed her hand firmly against his chest, pausing there for a moment before she sighed. "Still not coming through strongly. I guess this other shirt is going to have to go, too."

This time she took her sweet time pulling the buttons free, nearly making him squirm in his seat from the simple light brushes of her delicate fingers over the newly-exposed tan skin. And when the white shirt fully opened, she snaked her right hand under the fabric and caressed his skin all the way over to her intended destination. Fakir sank a little lower in the chair, breathing beginning to become ragged from her simple ministrations. The redhead blinked as she stared down at her hand's idle position, then turned an amused pair of blue eyes to his. If she found the deep blush painted across his cheeks to be questionable, she didn't let it show. "There's a big difference with yours!" She declared with something akin to astonishment. "It's beating very quickly, almost like you're excited or nervous about something!"

Clueless. She didn't even appear to have the slightest inkling about just what that anxious excitement really _was_. Why couldn't she just wake up and put two and two together for onc--

"Euuugrgh!" He bit back the noise almost as soon as it escaped his throat, arching harshly against the back of the chair when her nails carefully dug into his skin.

Her face mirrored mild disappointment. "I still can't feel it really well though... Why don't you stand up for a minute?"

The dark-haired boy paused to catch his breath as she finally retracted her hand. He vaguely wondered what she was going planning to do, although he was pretty certain it would follow the same steps she led him through with her. And that likely meant she was going to lean in and listen to his heartbeat - which was _far_ less torturous than what she was doing previously. Maybe he could still snag his flagging control back before the situation got too out of hand.

Complying with her request, he languidly lifted to an upright stance (using one hand to grab the edge of the desk behind him to hold himself up), and just as he expected, she promptly leaned her head forward and laid her ear against his chest. He straightened and stilled, trying his best to ignore the warmth of her pressed to him and the soft brush of her red curls against the open skin.

"Oh, I think it's starting to slow down a little now," she remarked, her hot breath passing over his exposed chest.

Then something warm and wet came in contact with his skin and Fakir inhaled sharply, the flush returning tenfold to set his face aflame.

"Ohh! It sped up again!" Ahiru voiced gleefully.

She _didn't_ just--! She couldn't have--! Was his lust running away with his imagination now?

As if in reply that unspoken question, she swiftly pulled away, showing him a smile that was almost seductive in nature. "And now I'll answer the question this lesson started with, Fakir." Her small hands rose and latched onto either of his shoulders, then began meandering down and in underneath of the twin white flaps of his open shirt. "A healthy heart is important because..." Passing his abdomen, her hands finally ceased their descent and rubbed sensually against the taught skin just above the hem of his uniform pants. "It pumps blood to _every_ part of your body."

Fakir stared as she pulled away from him completely and hopped off of the desk, not even bothering to attempt to hide his shock as he flopped back down into the waiting chair below. Her hips swayed from side to side shamelessly, begging for attention as she made her way back to the blackboard.

...This was no accident. She was doing it on purpose! _This whole time she knew exactly what she was doing_!

And that realization only fed the flames of his growing desire, arousing him to the point that his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight. He never _dreamed_ Ahiru could be anything like this little red-headed minx before him.

Did that mean she wanted him as much as he wanted her? And she was finally starting to let it show?

They spent a lot of time together. That much was undeniable. Hell, it was to be _expected_ with the promise he made to her. And although they were just short of actually dating or anything beyond the bounds of friends, the rumors that spread over campus had assumed they were already together. Not that Fakir minded, in the least. The less males he had to chase off from getting acquainted with her or leering at her, the better.

However, he never took any further steps forward in their relationship because he was unsure of how she felt. Ahiru smiled a lot, she was friendly, considerate, a bit nerve-wracking at times... but she was like that with everyone. He couldn't see anything special in her behavior or attitude when it came to him. Not in a romantic sense, anyway.

And so he decided to be a coward about it. He feared the thought of being rejected and of screwing up their close bond by confusing or upsetting her.

Even now he was still running away from it. That possibility of shattering everything always lurked in the shadows and he used it as an excuse to keep his feelings to himself--dishonesty. And it didn't even end there. For all she raved about being an 'ugly duckling', he certainly couldn't take his eyes off of her. And that too, had become a problem in the most recent years. College life was less innocent than the days at Kinkan's Fine Arts Academy. Ahiru had been entirely oblivious to all of the improper attention she was getting from the other male students here, but Fakir wasn't that dense. And it was through the so-called protection of her innocence that he started to see her in that same light.

Dishonorable. And he knew it. But he stubbornly decided it was alright as long as she remained as naive as she was. Those other young men had less self-control and restraint than he did. As long as he only _looked_ and didn't touch, she would be none the wiser. And things would be fine that way. They could continue going as they had without any drastic changes.

He'd been foolish to think it would be that _simple_. Matters only complicated further with time. How long would it be until she tired of him and found someone she wanted a more intimate relationship with? There were too many people, too many choices--many of which were much more friendly and outgoing than he was. This was the point in life where people commonly spread out and found someone they wanted to share their lives with, or at the very least accept commitment beyond frivolous flings. He already knew who he was devoted to and who he wanted to have that kind of relationship with. And thus he'd begun to get frustrated that she hadn't taken any notice of his feelings. Not that he was even straightforward with anything, but it would only be so long before someone came along who was much more honest and willing to express themselves.

And Fakir irrationally blamed her for not maturing enough to take notice or seizing the initiative where he failed to.

Was _this_ her way of coaxing him to open up about everything...?

"Fakiiiir" Ahiru beckoned, breaking him out of his inner-contemplation. She was holding her hands behind her back, head tilted slightly to the side as she smiled. "It's time to move on to the next part of the lesson. Are you ready?"

He opened his mouth to reply with the affirmative, but stopped short, swiftly noting that the top few buttons of her shirt had been unclasped, revealing a gracious amount of cleavage. He swallowed, and finding his throat had gone dry, opted for a stiff nod.

Her grin widened. "Alright. I want you to skip down to the middle part under where it says what's important for a healthy body and read what it says next to number two."

It took more will power than he expected to lift his gaze away from her half-exposed chest and focus on the chalked lines upon the blackboard. Passing his tongue over his lips in attempt to prepare, he opened his mouth to speak. "Eat healthy foods."

No sooner had the words left his mouth when she suddenly pulled her hands out in front of her, revealing a ripe red apple. "Fruits are healthy, Fakir. And you should eat more of them." Ahiru cradled the apple in front of her, petting the surface. "Doesn't it look good?"

Once again, it was with some difficultly that he was able to tear his gaze from her cleavage when the apple was being displayed _right_ beside it. "Y-Yeah, I guess," he mumbled.

Her lips formed into a pout. "You don't seem convinced." Glancing down at the apple, she lifted the red-skinned fruit to her lips and took a small bite, closing her eyes as if savoring the flavor. "Mmmm... You really should try this, Fakir. I think you would like it."

He never thought that watching her eat part of an apple could be erotic, but each small bite she took coupled with the euphoric look on her face was making him squirm in his seat.

And after slowly swallowing another piece, she fixed half-lidded blue eyes on him, sauntering right up to his desk. "Do you...want some?"

The low tone of her duck-like voice sent a shiver down his spine. "S-Sure." He held one hand out to accept the apple and she glanced down at his open palm for a moment before returning her gaze to the bitten fruit. Then, as if deciding something, a tiny smirk curled up the far corner of her lips and she reached her free hand out, pulling the desk out from in front of him and pushing the wooden object off to the side. His eyes were wide with surprise, but shadowed with lust as he held his breath in anticipation for what this unreadable and assertive side of the redhead was planning to do next.

And he wasn't disappointed. She partook of the apple once again, letting half of the slice protrude from her mouth as she straddled his lap, settling herself right down over his erection. The action pulled a breathy gasp from his mouth and she immediately seized the opening, leaning right in and pressing the fruit into his parted lips. And he readily accepted the gift, pulling the piece fully into his mouth and chewing quickly. "Well?" she inquired after a moment, lips mere centimeters from his. "Was it good?"

No sooner had he swallowed before his arms sprang to life, wrapping around her petite form and closing the tiny distance that remained between their mouths. Fakir didn't even try to mask his hunger - he had been waiting far too long for the opportunity to kiss her and he wasn't going to let this chance slip by him. She obviously had no complaints. Her reciprocation was almost immediate and filled with that same longing, her head tilting just marginally to the side as her hands went to work - one crawling up over his shoulder and behind his neck while the other smoothed into his open shirt. His fingers tensed in their grip around her waist and back as she carefully slid her tongue into his mouth. Had he been thinking clearly, he likely would have found the action odd from someone like her, but in his current state, he wasn't going to question or protest _anything_ she wished to initiate.

The kiss deepened from his end, his own tongue working against hers in a clearly inexperienced but eager manner. He found the lingering taste of apple mixed with the sweetness of her mouth to be intoxicating, and the gentle movement of her hips down over his lower body elicited a groan from his throat, the noise half-lost between the heated connection of their busy mouths. The hand upon his chest started to move downward, alternating between stroking the muscles and scraping her nails across the warm flesh as he arched into her addictive touch, craving more of it.

"Fakir," she coo-ed softly as she pulled back, her voice lulling his eyes back open. His gaze was met with a darkened hue of blue in her eyes and a flush that was clearly visible across her lightly-freckled face. She leaned up to his left ear and bit gently, warm breath releasing in a small pant. "Tell me what number three says."

Ahiru started to lick the curve of the same ear as he struggled to concentrate briefly on the board, his words coming out hoarse and fragmented. "Get--nn--plenty...of--exercise."

"Mmm," she purred in approval, nipping at the edge of his hearing appendage again before both of her hands swiftly relocated to his pants and undid the clasp with haste. He gasped in surprise, and she giggled in a manner that suggested she was amused. "I think you need some exercise, Fakir. Always sitting around writing...you don't give your muscles a good _work out _that way...but_ I _can help you with that." She scooted back just far enough to release his hardness from its restraints, a smile curving onto her pink lips when she received an appreciative groan of need in response. Positioning one hand over the length of his erection, she began sliding it up and down at a leisurely pace, retracting from his ear to watch the way his face contorted in pleasure. "Warming up first is important," she informed him as her hand started to pump a little faster. "Can't have you burning yourself out in a few _wild_ seconds of over-exertion..."

Where she learned _any_ of this was a mystery to him, but it felt so amazing that he couldn't bring himself to care. His eyes screwed shut again when she squeezed his manhood, breath falling out in strained pants and sweat running down his brow. He felt gentle fingertips curl up into his hair and caress the side of his face tenderly, which completely betrayed the increasingly rough actions of her other hand. "That's a good boy... So well-behaved."

Both of his hands fixed on her waist, gripping her tightly and constricting with each of her skilled hand's actions. The redhead gave him another tight squeeze and he instinctively bucked up against her. "I believe you're prepared now," she spoke in a pleased manner. And slowly, she began to ease up and lessen the tempo of her hold on his shaft until both hands had retracted from their different positions and come to her waist, where she pried the vice grip from her middle. He mildly protested with a strangled verbal noise and increased pressure of his fingertips into the lightly-clothed skin, but ultimately gave in to her insistence, letting his hands fall away from her.

Almost like a reward for his obedience, she leaned forward quickly to give him a small peck on the lips and then released his legs from her straddling, standing up again briefly before she lowered down to the floor just a couple feet in front of him. "It's time for the final part of your lesson, Fakir. I knew you'd make it this far... and of course, I was prepared for when you did..."

Even in his heated and half-focused state, his eyes widened when she hiked up her skirt--revealing that she wasn't wearing panties. Blood rushed to his face all over again, his hardness straining almost painfully at the sight of her half-naked and waiting.

Waiting for _him_.

She smiled seductively, reaching a hand out toward him and performing a 'come hither' gesture. And he reacted almost immediately, fumbling down from his chair and nearly tripping over his pants in the process. Ahiru chuckled as he hastily crawled over her figure and quickly unclasped the final buttons to her blouse, leaving her meager chest completely unbound and open before him. "Now don't be shy," she said, voice dripping with sultry sweetness as she cupped her hands under both of her breasts. "You wanted some of this too, didn't you? The more exploring you do, the more exercise you'll get, after all." She lowered down to her back on the floor, hair pooling like a blanket of fire around her.

Fakir hesitated, as if unsure of what he wanted first, and her arms reached out to curl around his neck, pulling him right down to her chest. He inhaled at the contact of his face in a familiar position, the burning warmth of her breast against his still-moist lips sending a jolt of electricity through his system. Opening his mouth, he experimentally allowed his tongue to glide out and over the sensitive skin. The slight shudder of her beneath him boosted his confidence, his tongue becoming more bold and working slickly across her breast until it found the nipple. Pausing for just a scarce second, he bore his mouth down over the small protrusion, sucking almost desperately.

"What a fast learner," she praised with a mewl of pleasure, and then purposefully arched her center up against his hardened length. "But you know what's going to give you the _best_ exercise, don't you?"

He threw his head back and moaned when she rolled her hips up against his erection again. And she gave him no time to recover from her onslaught, one hand pulling up her skirt as the other found his manhood and gently guided it to her center. He panted harshly, lifting himself up by his arms as she placed his length where it needed to be. "Now listen to me, Fakir," she instructed, idly playing her fingertips upon his hard surface. "Place your hands on my hips." He followed her command without complaint, fingers clasping around either side to get a firm grip. And she proceeded to position his tip against her damp entrance, smiling up at him. "Now show me just how well you understand the importance of a healthy work-out."

Taking a deep breath, he thrust forward, sinking into her with surprising ease, his body temporarily overcome by the overwhelming sensations that erupted within him from entering inside of her. She sighed almost happily as he exhaled, pulling himself partway out and then pushing in again. Her legs lifted and latched around his back. "_Faster_."

As if his body was in-tune to her verbal demands, his pace slowly quickened, earning a tiny moan of approval from beneath him. He groaned in response, swiftly rocking in and out and the tempo only picking up as he felt himself start to get lost in the friction of their scorching bodies.

"Yes," she gasped as he thrust even more wildly, their pants of exertion becoming louder with each passing second. "_Yes_, just like that--keep going--you're learning so well."

His eyes closed, fingers almost bruising into her hips as he struggled to keep a grip on her, pounding her lithe form into the floor with each rapid movement. The redhead panted heavily, one hand snaking down from around his neck to scrape its nails down his sweat-dotted collarbone and chest.

"I knew my experience would be good for you."

Another sharp thrust--faster--reason and coherent thought nearly blocked out by the increasing pleasure and desire.

"I could--_Ah_!--see your sexual frustrations--I wanted to help you--Nnnn!"

Sweat trickled down his brow and trailed off the edge of his chin, his mouth open and breathing strained and hitched with need.

"I've done this before--and you had so much you needed to learn--"

He froze, eyes snapping open and body halting mid-thrust. All at once it felt like a rushing waterfall of cold liquid splashed over him. "_What_?"

She blinked up at him. "You didn't think you were my_ first_, did you?"

Something in him seized up and constricted so hard that he felt like he couldn't breathe. All he could do was stare, stunned. She wasn't--someone had beat him to it? She had already engaged in this with someone else? _THAT_ was how she seemed so goddamn experienced!?

"W-Who?" he choked out, swallowing another growing lump in his throat. Whoever that man was, he was going to _pay_ for taking her. All he needed was a name and he'd track that bastard down and--

"My first?" She inquired, almost as if they were having a casual conversation despite the intimate act they were in the middle of. "I don't remember, honestly. There's been so many that it's hard to keep track."

His green eyes widened in horrified shock. "You...You're joking."

Ahiru's lips twisted into a pout as she slid her hand up and down his chest. "I don't see _how_ you can be surprised. I mean--it's obvious that you were never going to tell me how you felt. Other guys were more...eager. And they didn't try to hide their feelings from me."

No. It wasn't true. It _wasn't_--It _**couldn't**_ be!

She reached up and caressed his face softly with one hand. "Oh, did I hurt your feelings? I'm so sorry!" The smirk on her lips, however, suggested that she was almost being cruel. "I couldn't wait for you forever, Fakir. Three years into college and we weren't even dating. You're still such a coward. And yet I was nice enough to give this to you, anyway. Here I thought you would be _thankful_."

"No," he rasped. This was _his _fault? She turned to other men because she thought him to be too much of a coward?

She continued as though she hadn't even heard him utter a thing. "But it's names you want, isn't it? I'll see how many I can remember... Let's see, there's Devon, Tyler, and Sebastian--he's_ really _good with his hands and he taught me a lot."

"Stop..."

"And there was Ryan and Rien--they were twins. I never thought a threesome could be so much fun! Oh--and their cousin, Benjamin. He was a pretty good lay, too..."

"_Stop_..."

"And at least half of the boys in the dancing class. You should see what they can _do_. Definitely stronger than they look. And I admit it was a little risky to be using the practice room, but Raoul was especially creative. Plus there were a few of the guys from your writing class who were very--"

"_**SHUT UP**_!"

_Thunk_. Fakir felt his forehead come in contact with something hard and groaned in pain. Blinking his eyes as he lifted his head, his vision languidly cleared and a worried pair of blue eyes materialized right in front of him. He lurched away, his own eyes wide with surprise.

"Fakir, you could have said something if you were sick! I didn't mean to upset you or anything by rambling like that, but you didn't have to tell me to shut up!"

He stared at her for a long moment and then slowly cast his gaze down to the desk he was seated at. A familiar book greeted his sight and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

_It wasn't real._

The dark-haired boy shifted in his seat and then froze, glancing down at his pants and swallowing hard. Real or not, his body couldn't seem to tell the difference. Just bloody great.

He looked up again in surprise when he felt a small hand press against his forehead. "You're running a fever, Fakir. I'm really sorry--I would never have asked you to go through with this today if I knew you weren't feeling well!"

He blinked, feeling more and more relieved as the seconds passed. Ahiru's naivete was back with a vengeance. And he'd never been as glad to see it as he was now. "It's fine," he assured her. "I suppose I should have said something."

She was quiet for a moment, and then, "Is there anything I can do for you? Something to help you feel better?"

He glanced at her pleading gaze, knowing _exactly_ how she could help him and his lower body tensed at the thought--but no, not after that accursed situation his imagination had just tortured him with. He would be sure to rectify his mistake _soon_, but now was not the time for that. "I'll just...go and wash up in the men's restroom."

"Oh, okay." She watched as he swiftly rose from the desk and immediately turned his back to her, heading for the door. "Um...Fakir?"

He stilled a few feet from the door. "Hn?"

"You're still going to help me with all the things I'm having trouble with, right? I promise we'll arrange another tutoring session so you learn the Health material too, but I have that test in English coming up and--"

"Don't worry," he interrupted her calmly. "There may be a lot of things you need to know, but..." The small smile that curved onto his lips remained unseen by the redhead. "I'm going to be the one to teach you _everything_." '_And I'm sure as hell not letting anyone else __**near**__ you before that_.'

She clapped her hands together, face brightening into a smile that she beamed at his turned figure. "Wow, really? That's so nice of you! I look forward to it, Fakir!"

"Good," he said with an air of satisfaction as he stepped out of the classroom. "That makes two of us, then."

And now he knew exactly what he could fantasize about to relieve his little problem.

--

AN: Egaaaads, this got so long! It's pretty much it's own fanfic instead of a smut prompt. XD;;; I also really wanted to work Fakir's fantasy into a reality, but I just _couldn't_ tweak Ahiru's personality enough to make her take a dominant role. ...But she did in Fakir's head, at least. XD And I hope no one minds that little twist I added. I like putting plot into things and it's hard not to, even when I really shouldn't with prompts like this.

Nonetheless, I really hope you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing it, even if it was far out of bounds of anything I've done before. Reviews are most welcome and appreciated!

Thank you for reading!


	2. Cold Feet in Hot Water

AN: ...Onoz. Another new one-shot. XD;;; Sorry, guys. I wish there was some pattern to my inspiration, but there's really not. I was not expecting to wake up today and feel like writing smut. But, it happened. And I'm not one to complain when any inspiration strikes, so I go with that flow!

Important note!: This does NOT go along with the last chapter. At all. This is a little one-shot of its own and does not tie in. I know it says that on the fic summary itself, but there's always someone who asks, so I just want to clear that up!

And yes, if you cannot tell by the last story or the rating of this fic in general, **THIS IS **_**SMUT**_. NC-17 material. No joke, no lie.

So what's with this fic, you ask? Well, it all started with a little drabble prompt on my LJ, from blacksheep91, which was simply something smutty with Fakir and Ahiru and having to do with the Ahiru using Fakir's shower in the boy's dorm at the Academy. The prompt result itself IS in the fic (just a short part in the beginning), but afterward, I felt like extending it into a full smut fic of its own.

About this fic: Fakir and Ahiru (At 20 and 17), have been dating for about two years. Prior to that, Fakir managed to change her back into a girl and both resumed their studies at Kinkan Academy. However, Fakir transferred from the ballet school and into the writing program instead, and thus is still studying there despite that he would have already graduated from the ballet department. Now thankfully roommate-less in the dorm, he enjoys the solitary use of the facilities. That is, until his girlfriend shows up late one night with the request to borrow his shower. According to Ahiru, there was a problem with water at the girl's dorm and thus she sought him out for help. But there's a reason things have been rather awkward and unsettling between the two of them, particularly in the past few months...

Dedication: Blacksheep91, since she gave me the prompt that started it. Annnd this could also be considered a late birthday present.

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all of its characters do not belong to me. And I am making no sort of profit with this work of fiction.

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**Cold Feet in Hot Water**

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Never had she imagined that it would come to this.

There was nothing that odd about borrowing your boyfriend's shower. Or so Ahiru had originally thought. After all, it's not as though she _wanted_ the pipes in the girl's dorm to be malfunctioning. And it just so happened that Fakir had his own dorm room - all to himself. It was an innocent request, really. And it made plenty of sense, given the situation.

But it had come to this. And now... now she didn't know where it was going.

Her lower back pressed against the edge of the sink with the weight that pushed her back, white porcelain edge nudging through the fabric of the fluffy towel haphazardly wrapped around her small form and forcing a whimper from her mouth. There was a noise at her ear - a incomprehensible murmur in a young man's husky voice - and then lips and tongue descended along the line of her jaw, continuing a warm, wet trail down the side of her neck.

Damp red hair smeared streaks of water over the fogged up mirror behind her head as she craned her neck back, the squeak across the glass mixing audibly with the tiny moan the fell from her parted lips. The taller frame trapping her in place was shirtless, a simple pair of black boxers hanging along his hips and dark hair falling unbound and free, allowing a few stray locks to drift just over his shoulders as he leaned into her. One wandering hand eagerly caressed the open skin of her right arm, the other settling just underneath the edge of the towel's reach along the top of her opposite thigh. The combined ministrations pulled another small noise from deep within her throat, causing her hold on the edge of the sink to tighten as she braced herself against the hot mouth that assaulted the sensitive area at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

His rumble of appreciation was almost like a growl, the tremors of it reverberating in a way that sent a pleasurable shiver down the length of her spine. And the small hand stubbornly holding the top of the towel in place at her chest faltered when a set of his own digits grasped about it, carefully peeling her grip away from the end of the material. Instead of fighting him, she let her fingers slide off and allowed the thick cloth to drop in folds about her middle, extracting her hand from his in order to rest it upon his open chest and run her fingertips along the rough flesh of his faded scar.

He inhaled sharply at the contact and she suddenly felt his left leg constrict in a violent manner - her eyes flying open in surprise when the door swiftly shut with a deafening and final slam a mere second later.

The last thing she saw was a hooded, hungry look in his darkened green eyes before he reached off to the side - and with one one soft click, plunged the bathroom into darkness.

"Wait!" she squeaked, startled by the sudden black-out.

The lips just inches from her own released a grunt, the fingers upon her leg tensing. But obediently, he ceased his pursual of furthering the contact, waiting as patiently as he could manage.

Her breathing was releasing with steady pants as she struggled to find her voice again. "This...here--this isn't...good," she finally voiced softly, pulling her hand away from his chest.

"You don't like it?" he breathed warmly against the skin of her face, carefully pressing his lips to her jawline in a lingering caress.

"It's not that---it's---it's not...comfortable," she whimpered out, arching when she felt his tongue slide across the area he had just kissed. "And I can't...see!"

He heaved a defeated sigh as he pulled away from her - and abruptly the light flooded into her vision again, temporarily blinding her. The first thing she saw when her blue eyes adjusted to the intake of brightness, was a scowl on his handsome face. "Better?" he grumbled.

"No," she pouted as she squirmed in her compromising position. "Why don't _you_ try sitting on the sink?"

He rolled his eyes, trying not to let them settle on her bare chest in the process, and allowed her room to get down. And she did a mere moment later, cheeks flaming as she fixed her towel into sturdy place again.

To be honest, Fakir was having trouble thinking clearly. He wanted nothing more than to continue what they were doing. His body was literally aching for her. And dammit, as far as he was concerned, this was all her fault. Only _she_ wouldn't see anything remotely suggestive about asking to borrow his private shower. Particularly considering they had gotten hot and heavy in her dorm room just a week prior.

It was torture. And if she wasn't so bloody innocent, he would have thought she was doing it on _purpose_ - including all of these unwelcome interruptions that would always surface right smack-dab in the middle of their intimacy.

Dimly, his mind was chiding him about being an impatient, horny teenager, but he stubbornly ignored it. Wanting your girlfriend in a more physical manner was a perfectly common occurrence. And he had been very patient for two years already. Was that not enough? Did she have to continue to lead him on and then get cold feet?

And it did happen frequently, to his dismay.

He thought with time that she would be much more careful about her transformations from duck to to girl, but that was clearly not the case. If anything, ever since he had changed her back again, she had become much worse, both with timing and frequency of the switches. And thus he had slowly become accustomed to seeing her naked form. Not that it didn't still embarrass him, but given how often it happened, he found that each time it took just a little bit_ longer _to coax his eyes away from her unclothed body.

She had undeniably grown up and matured into a more womanly figure over the years. And it had awakened something in him that he hadn't even known existed: physical desire.

Naturally, it was all denied vehemently and he refused to succumb to such odd and uncomfortable thoughts of the redhead. Those images and dishonorable urges to touch her and see her displayed in that manner were quelled with the force of a tight fist that wrung them out of existence. They were ridiculous and not worth his attention.

At least, that was what he assured himself. But then, as if to retaliate, they invaded his subconscious instead. He dreamed about her, and about indulging in those immoral thoughts that he had banished away. Sometimes he would wake up feeling oddly warm and bothered as a result of them. Or worse, with incredibly incriminating evidence of the dream's effects on his bedsheets.

Which swiftly led to his second method of relief and escape: masturbation.

Perhaps that was part of the reason why the thought of her using her using his shower was much more arousing than it should have been. Many nights had he spent fantasizing about her while he brought himself to release amidst the running spray of water in that cozy bathroom. And the mere thought of her in that very same shower or _joining_ her---getting the opportunity to touch her slick, supple flesh...it was _maddening_.

Clearly the physical aspect of his relationship with Ahiru existed to test his limits, and to strain the threads of sexual frustration to the point of near insanity.

And that blockhead of a girlfriend of his was oblivious. Even now, she was merely staring at him curiously, a little pink in the cheeks, but nothing more. He had once thought it was blessing that introducing her to the finer points of human intimacy had all been taken in stride and surprisingly with ease. She relaxed into kissing and touching, even with her inexperience and his awkwardness in exploring it with her.

But she seemed to think that merely stopping amidst it, seemingly for no reason or for stupid interruptions, was perfectly normal and acceptable. Was it more difficult for her to recognize sexual desire? Even at seventeen? And there was that nagging, discouraging thought that he was the only one of them that was truly affected beyond the simple sweetness of being together.

Which was unfortunately, the most likely explanation. If she could cut off that easily and then gleefully announce that she was hungry or tired or the other hundred excuses that she made, then she must not have been experiencing anything that he was. And as long as that was the case, he couldn't very well protest. That would be beyond inconsiderate. Even if he lusted for her, he loved her very much and would never force her into anything she didn't wish to do - especially not something as selfish as his own sexual gratification. It was shameful enough that he had started coming onto her so much in the first place.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment at that final thought, Fakir stepped back with a sigh, giving the girl ample room to reach the door. "Well, go on. I still need to shower too, you know."

Seemingly taking advantage of his unseeing state, Ahiru's eyes trained on him, trying to discern what it was he could be thinking or feeling. Or perhaps, she distantly admitted to herself, she already knew. This type of response was common when this would happen.

And she...

Inwardly shaking her head, the duck-girl reached for the door knob and turned it, pausing only for one last glanced into his now-open green eyes before she slipped out of the bathroom wordlessly.

She could hear him sigh across the barrier and felt a smidgen of guilt build up and swirl in her stomach. Why was she such a coward? Why couldn't she just tell him the truth? Ahiru knew that leading him into these things and then just stopping was hurting him in some way. And she felt terrible every time she did it - knowing full well that she was conscious of it the whole time.

But her own insecurities kept her from admitting it to him or explaining herself. She was too embarrassed - too unsure. And although she trusted Fakir very much, she felt that it was a hurdle that she needed to conquer on her own. Coming to terms with her own feelings was important to her.

Frustrating him this way was not what she wanted, though. Each time she felt it would be okay to keep going and allow herself to let go and freely experience every new thing that was passing between the two of them... she would have doubts at the most inopportune times. And as if on instinct, she would immediately feed him an excuse for her behavior - sometimes ones that didn't even make sense.

Because she knew that if she told him she was worried or scared or unsure... he would back away from her. He would stop touching her like that and would surely blame himself for frightening her. And that was not what the redhead wanted at all.

Once the sound of the shower filled her ears, she leaned back against the bathroom door, taking a shuddering breath as her half-bare back met the wood. She still felt quite warm, and a little damp between her legs. The image of him showering just beyond that simple door wasn't helping matters, either. Why did she have to stop him and push him away again?! She really _was_ a moron sometimes.

Maybe... it was time to face those feelings she had been running from. Hadn't she led him in circles enough already? Sooner or later he would catch on to her hesitations, no matter how she tried to hide it. Fakir was sharp and perceptive. Ahiru knew that she could not feign ignorance forever. And he would be really upset if he discovered that she had been hiding the truth from him all this time.

But how could she begin to tell him that she wanted to be touched in strange and private places? And feel him in a similar manner? Even just the mere thought in her head warmed her face in embarrassment. Every time he had come close to granting that silent wish of hers, she pulled away and made up some spontaneous reason to pull away from him or leave altogether.

She wasn't even sure what made her do it. Everything they had done together in the physical sense felt good, sometimes pleasing to the point she thought she might be in danger of bursting right out of her own skin. And yet before the peak could be reached she would always react the same way and leave them both with a void of heavy dissatisfaction. Which he did not hide, and she shamefully did.

"I'm such an idiot..." she mumbled to herself, staring down at the floor. "What can I do now?"

As if in answer, there was a noise from within the bathroom that made her stiffen, just the mere timbre of his voice causing heat to flood through her veins. Ahiru swallowed heavily, turning to face the door.

She really needed to stop running from this - from these feelings for him, once and for all.

Taking the sudden burst of courage that thought provided, she slowly reached for the handle and carefully, soundlessly opened the bathroom door. Steam wafted through the opening, the moisture licking at her open areas of skin as if enticing her to come deeper within. And enter she did, taking great care to close the door as inconspicuously as possible behind her.

With a shallow breath, she lifted her gaze to the shower curtain, watching the moving shadow just beyond it. For a moment she thought it almost looked like a silhouette dancing - he would bend and turn, his arms move up and down... the movements were almost mesmerizing to behold. And thankfully he had yet to notice her presence, granting her the freedom to continue in her curious scrutiny of his shadowed form. But with every passing second that she watched him, her body grew inexplicably warmer - and with it came a strange sensation that would happen sometimes when she thought about him or touching and being touched by him.

And at this precise moment, that feeling was making her thoughts and urges turn bold. She wanted to cross the few short feet of distance, hop into the shower, and feel that wet body against her own. Even knowing he was very naked behind that curtain didn't deter her. If anything, that made the feeling flare in a burst of unquenchable fire.

Half-dazed, Ahiru took a few simple steps forward, drawing a little closer to the obscured form of her showering boyfriend. With a tiny tug on the side of her towel, she allowed the material to unravel and drop to the floor with a near-silent flop, leaving her completely bare. All the while her cerulean eyes were still trained on that moving form, refusing to budge. Cowardice would not stop her this time. She could feel that they both needed this and had wanted it for a long time.

No longer would she allow herself to be the reason both of them were left deprived of it.

Her feet padded softly across the cool floor, carrying her all the way to the side of the bathtub. And before her nerves could betray her, the redhead reached out and pulled the curtain aside.

His reaction was instantaneous: with a startled gasp, he turned wide green eyes to meet the duck-girl's naked form as she proceeded to step right into the shower behind him. A brilliant flush of red washed over his face, creeping to his ears and down his neck. And his mouth hung open in shock until he finally coerced himself to swallow before nervously venturing, "W-Why---what...A-Ahiru?"

Blue eyes were downcast briefly, unwilling to look him in the eye just yet. There were many things she knew that she should say and a confession she owed him, but even the small glances she had taken of his wet male figure begged her to save the extensive talking until later. Stepping right up to him, she reached a hand up over his neck and leaned her head against his damp chest, feeling him stiffen at her touch.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she breathed out softly, a shudder running through her with the stream of water that pelted against her shoulder. "Fakir, I...I want to be with you."

Silence stretched for many seconds following, only the rushing sound of the shower water ringing through it. She felt uncertainty begin to bubble up within her as more and more of those precious seconds passed. Was he going to turn her away? Yell at her for coming uninvited into his shower and seeing him naked? Or worst of all, tell her it was too late and he was tired of waiting?

Before she could worry over it any longer, he finally responded. A slick hand came to rest on her right arm, rubbing up and down with a languid caress as he ducked his head down far enough for his lips to reach near her ear. "Can I touch you?" he whispered, voice husky and low - a tone that subsequently sent shivers down the full length of her back.

With no hesitation at all, she nodded. "Please..." came her almost soundless reply.

Needing no further encouragement, his hands found her shoulders and guided her back, pulling them a little further from the spraying stream of liquid above. He then proceeded to push her up against the tiled wall, fingers moving down from her shoulders as he leaned right in and pressed his lips into hers. She responded in kind, tilting her head up into the kiss and running her hand in descent from behind his neck, stroking the wet tan flesh it fell across. And her immediate reciprocation seemed to excite him, his fingertips curling around her arms while his mouth moved over her willing lips with an awakened ferocity.

For Fakir to say that this turn of events was unexpected would be a severe understatement. He could not have seen her coming a mile away, and certainly not in such a straightforward manner (much less interrupting his unfinished shower). But despite his initial embarrassment, he wasn't going to complain - that look in her eyes spoke to him. There was desire swimming in those lucid sapphire depths. And the same sensation was still running as hotly through his own system as it had been before she exited the bathroom earlier.

Whatever her motivations were, and whatever might have driven her to come this far... it would have to wait until later. He could tell for the first time that she wanted him - and that thought alone made him harder than any fantasy ever had. No matter what she could say or explain now, it would only reach his ears as sensual noises - the pitch of her voice being the only thing he could focus on in this state.

And as if on cue, a small sound did sneak through the liplock - a quick intake of her breath. Having nearly forgotten the need to breathe, he followed suit to get a bit of oxygen himself before he delved back in toward her ripened lips, the tip of his tongue tracing their shape with relish. She sighed as her hand, dampened by his own skin, weaved circular paths over the expanse of his chest. The shower scarcely continued to spray their sides with its continued stream, but it was long forgotten amidst the building of passion between the two figures.

Ahiru raised her free hand to clutch into his soaked, unbound locks of hair, inadvertently pulling him closer. The warm, wet appendage that had been sampling her lips then pushed between them, coercing the mouth to open to his silent request and plunging into the orifice beyond. Her breath hitched at the intrusion, fingertips constricting where they had lodged in his hair. Fakir probed hungrily within her mouth, tasting the inside of the cavern with sweeping strokes of his eager tongue as one of his hands relocated to her waist and rubbed the tender, bare flesh.

She arched right into his touch, mouth opening wider on the stirrings of a moan within her throat. The redhead wasn't worried now. His ministrations felt right and flooded her with waves of bristling anticipation. She wanted more. She wanted him to never stop...!

And ceasing the onslaught seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind. After briefly playing a twisting game of tag with her tongue, he coaxed it to follow his back toward the opening of her mouth and out into the air, wasting no time in closing his lips over her pink tongue and sucking hard upon it as he pulled his head away. She released a gasp once he had let it go, left momentarily breathless from the maneuver, but her dark-haired boyfriend did not stop there. His panting mouth slipped down and latched to the side of her neck, performing a similar suction method and teasing the trapped skin with brushes of his teeth.

She braced her back up against the dripping tiles, head lolling to the side and fingernails digging into his chest area. Without warning, she suddenly felt his hands press under both sides of her chest - one of those tender, private areas she had always wanted to feel him touch. Inhaling a shaky breath, she crooned his name as his calloused fingers roughly grasped the soft flesh, kneading it to his liking.

Hearing his name plead from her lips in such a way only fueled the rising desire within him. Removing his mouth from the now-reddened area on her neck, the ex-knight moved his head up alongside hers and snatched a hold of her left ear with his teeth. The action earned him a very vocal cry from her parted lips and the rapid movement of her fingers over the muscles of his stomach. He stifled a groan and licked the curve of her ear, hands busily roving over her breasts and teasing the small peaks to rapt attention.

This was amazing in ways he could not begin to describe. Even his writer's vocabulary would have difficultly attempting to put the feelings into words. And yet he knew they were not even yet at the top of it all - they were still building. It was impossible to imagine, given just how much pleasure was scorching through to the very endings of his nerves. He felt ready - too ready. Too close.

The redhead suddenly jolted when Fakir leaned right into her, feeling something long and stiff press against her warm thigh. A moan passed through her lips, increasing in volume suddenly when his fingers cupped right under her breasts pushed up at the same time his lower body did. And with it a fierce heat erupted through her center area, making the churning warmth between her legs spin with a sharp burst of urgency.

She wanted to...

With an unsteady and deep breath, her hand working over his chest dropped right down to the shaft that persisted in creating friction against her leg. And as soon as her fingertips licked its surface, she felt Fakir tense and free his mouth from her ear on a heavy groan. The rumbling noise emboldened her slightly, her hand curling down over the length and gripping it with small, but firm fingers. She could feel the flush seep into her cheeks - this was that very private part of him that she had thought about touching more than once. The texture was new to her, but the weight and size felt nice in her hand. Slowly, she started to glide clutching fingers over it, moving back and forth and watching for his reaction with her half-lidded blue eyes.

The sounds that followed were soft at first - almost fully drowned out by the sound of the running shower that still reached the lower half of their sides. But as she continued to pay her attentions to his erection, her boyfriend's changes in behavior were much more noticeable. His eyes had shut on a throaty growl, his own hands abandoning her chest and planting firmly on her hips, holding her steady up against the bathroom wall. With each following stroke of her slim fingers over his manhood, his breathing grew more erratic and his mouth sought hers to vanquish the rising volume of the noises that escaped.

This kiss was entirely unlike the one he had administered before. He was pushing so hard and insistent against her lips with his open mouth that the force pressed her head back against tile to an almost uncomfortable point. But she couldn't concentrate on that discomfort. His demanding, hot mouth had let loose his tongue again, ransacking everything in its path. She squealed from the wet assault in her mouth, tensing to the point that her hand around his shaft squeezed the sensitive flesh.

His following cry pulled his mouth away from hers on a guttural, loud groan, the length within her hand thrusting forward and sliding her fingertips to the base. He panted with heaving breaths, seemingly fighting for control as his throbbing erection moved back and forth through the clasp of her hand. "Oh god---Oh god..._ Ahiru_...."

The deep, sensual tone of his voice sent a thrill through her body, collecting at her core--which had begun to ache more than she thought possible. With a light gasp, she lowered her other hand and placed it to join the other, using both to grip his eager manhood as it pumped between them, brushing against her upper leg with every increasingly fast stroke.

Fakir's breathing rate had lost any nuance of control, groans and gasps mixing and growing louder - easily heard over the background noise of the running shower.

"A-Ahiru---!" he suddenly panted, chest heaving. It was too much. The feeling of her fingers gripping him down below was something he could not take any more of at this point. Too many times had he shamefully dreamed of it. And now that it was actually happening, he could not contain himself. He wanted to bring her to that high crest of pleasure right alongside of him, but... "I--I can't...!"

And with that choking gasp, his orgasm crashed through him in one suffocating wave of bright white, momentarily taking him out of existence entirely.

What the duck-turned-girl saw then, she had trouble making sense of in her lust-filled mind. He seemed to convulse and threw his head backward on what looked like a silent scream. And his fingers were gripping into her sides so hard that physically _hurt_. Even the building warmth and needy aching between her legs could not filter it out. She grit her teeth as he rode it out and then she felt something else - a warm wet stream impacted the leg away from the reach of the shower nozzle's water. And when it ceased, so did the shaking limbs of the naked young man holding her - and the flesh held in her fingers seemed to grow limp.

For a long string of moments afterward, all she could hear was the sound of his labored breaths. Until at last, he swallowed and spoke, "...Y-you idiot."

The chiding, unsteady whisper sent her eyes searching for his, and when she found them, she could only blink her hazy cerulean back at the half-glowering green, a silent question somewhere in the recesses of the blue color.

Removing one set of fingers from her hips, he reached down and broke her hands away from his spent shaft, gaze never leaving hers. "You had to go and rush me, didn't you," he grumbled, leaning toward her and nipping her bottom lip.

Honestly, Fakir felt a bit ashamed and more than a little embarrassed. Just the touch of her hands there for not but a couple of minutes had taken him right off the edge in no time flat. Even with the self-pleasuring he had indulged in before now, it was completely different from the addictive sensation of actually being touched by _her_.

But he was more than prepared for another round, as his own desire had yet to be satisfied. Part of that satisfaction depended solely on giving the same experience to her. And this time he would not allow himself to reach that peak of ecstasy until he was certain that she had found it as well. Even if just looking at her pink face and the want present in her eyes was already starting to curl fresh tendrils of burning desire enticingly around his groin. And the tantalizing thought of being sheathed deep within her...

Panting, she removed him from his reverie as she leaned forward and darted out her small tongue, a small noise climbing through his throat as she traced a thin line of water over his collarbone that a stray droplet had left behind. Initiation was not her strong point, but the longer he simply stood there staring, the more the impatience tugged at the corners of her senses. She needed the contact and needed to keep moving... needed distraction... needed _him_ so much.

Fakir leaned into her again, securely pushing her form more flushly against his own. His hands came to her sides and began gliding up and down the smooth, slickened skin. A moan of appreciation fell from the lips upon his chest and he squeezed her small, pert breasts taughtly between his digits, a clear persuasion for her to elicit more sounds.

She quickly escalated to necking him, strands of her saturated hair clinging to his tan shoulder as she licked and sucked the skin, feeling his adam's apple bob right alongside her feverish attentions. His breathing began to grow more ragged as a result, the hands at her chest gripping the mounds with increasing roughness, fingers pinching the little protrusions. She whined against him in response, hot heat flooding through her face and sinking to her abdomen, traveling even lower with its fire...

And he seemed to understand exactly what she wanted. Pushing her shoulders back to dislodge her mouth (which left a thin string of saliva in the process), his darkened emerald gaze met her own for a brief moment, unmasked lust swirling in the green color. And then he moved so quickly that she couldn't register what he was doing until she felt it - wet pressure cupped over one of her breasts as a hand placed itself back upon her hip - but most noticeably, the striking sensation of fingertips reaching just above her core made the duck-girl inhale so sharply that she nearly choked on the breath.

And excruciatingly slowly, his fingers brushed the damp curls protecting her center, delving lower and dancing over the folds of her waiting entrance. She could do nothing to hold back the squeal that erupted from her throat, which provoked him to suck harshly upon the nipple he had pulled into his mouth, and simultaneously sink a single finger right into her.

On instinct, her thighs clenched together over his hand, her body squirming so desperately that he had to steady her with the grip on her side before she slipped in the process. This was it --- this was that very private area that she could not stop thinking of him touching. And now he really was - and it was ripping so much pleasure through her that her pants grew shallower with every little breath she took. A long moan released from her parted lips as his single digit started pumping in and out with haste, her lithe form bucking with movement. She curved her arms up around his neck to hold him, fingernails digging into his back.

"Fakiiiir...Fakiiiiiiiiir..." she whimpered between unsteady breaths. And the sound of his own name pleading from her lips excited him further, provoking the pace down below to increase as his tongue lashed about her reddened left breast.

She was so slick and tight even just over one of his fingers, and Fakir felt himself twitch and grow hard where his shaft was leaning against her leg. Imagining that wet heated passage encompassing his member was almost making the erection painful with the need to make it a reality. One digit within her then became two, pulling a squeak from the girl as she struggled to keep hold and move with his thrusting hand. And needing more friction of his own, the dark-haired young man started grinding his stiffened manhood along the side of her upper thigh, just below his busy fingers.

Unable to keep his mouth planted against her chest any longer, he lifted his head and swallowed her incoming moan, head tilting into hers as he ravaged the two separate openings above and below at once. The onslaught was near blinding to the redhead, her fingers gripping so roughly into his skin that she was sure it would leave marks.

And yet that burning desperation to reach higher was still building, still left deprived of something she couldn't name. The fingers were a blessed torture in her core, but somehow they were not enough. He rocked intensely against her, grunting into her mouth with every press of his hardened member to her silky smooth leg. And then, she inexplicably understood - the fingers were not enough, they didn't fill her as deeply as she ached to be filled. But his length was long and large and her center burned with a suffocating intensity at the mere thought of it.

"I need more!" she near begged against his mouth, hoping that he would realize what she required.

That was all the encouragement he needed to step it up, knowing full well that she was feeling as great a desire as he was now. With a little groan, he ceased pumping into her and pulled his hand away from the damp warmth, immediately sliding his crotch up to hers once the area was freed. He could feel the dripping warmth on his member and the sensation nearly drove him crazy with want.

"Let me inside of you," he growled thickly into her lips as he positioned himself, bracing the hand coated in her essence against the tile wall beside her head. The fingers upon her hip constricted in their attempt to hold her steady, determined to keep her still until he entered. And his tone dropped to a seductive notch as he added, "I _promise_ it will feel good."

"Ohgodplease," she gasped into his mouth, mustering all of her willpower to keep from pushing forward and taking him into her emptiness. "_Please_."

And that final little word, so saturated with need and desire, forced his body into action. One swift stroke forward sunk his shaft right into her, the lubrication of her entrance assisting his large size to fit snugly inside. She thrashed her head away from his mouth and screeched his name into the steamy air, near sobbing from the sudden sharp pain of something breaking down below. He carefully pushed himself in a little deeper with a throaty groan, eyes clenching as her inner walls gripped around his hilt.

And then he waited as patiently as possible, the hand at the wall moving to her ear and curling into the matted, damp red locks of hair beside it and caressing the side of her face tenderly. He kissed the curve of her jaw in mute apology, allowing her time to adjust to his member penetrating her much further and fuller than his fingers had previously managed.

Her sobs slowly died away as the sting of the throb became less and less apparent with each passing second. She could feel how big he was and her body was having some difficulty taking him all in and adjusting, but there was an undeniable surge of pleasure bubbling underneath of it. And oddly enough, the ache within her was still present, which confused the duck-girl. Cautiously, she leaned her midsection off to the side a little, then the opposite way, restlessly tugging him along with her.

"All you had to do was say that you were ready," he reprimanded softly, biting the dangling lobe of her right ear.

She gasped at the feeling of his teeth nipping her---and that sound rapidly morphed into a choking moan when he slid out of her. And before she could wonder what would happen next, he thrust right back into her velvet warmth, a shudder running through her as she stifled a shriek, making her legs quake and feet slip over the porcelain bathtub in attempt to keep her form upright.

Sensing her problem, he returned his mouth to hers and lavished it with new attention, both of his hands ducking down and snatching her up by the legs, proceeding to hook the limbs around his waist. "Stay like that," he commanded in a panted murmur against her lips. "And hold on tight."

Then he began to move, slowly at first, but increasing in tempo with the licking of impatience that pleaded for continued friction between them. The heat coursing through Ahiru was fierce and relentless, striking pleasure through her body with every movement of his member buried in and pulled out of her core.

Fakir clasped both of his hands under her rear to hold her securely against him and squeezed the smooth cheeks as he rocked against her, groans and grunts falling endlessly from his lips. The slick slapping of her shoulders bumping the wall and the stream of wasted shower water became a steady backdrop to the noises of their love-making in the shower.

The ex-knight leaned his head back, suddenly starved to see her with his own eyes. And what he saw nearly took his remaining labored breath away. The redhead's face was flushed cherry red from the exertion and hot vapor surrounding them, her mouth open and bare chest heaving with the pace of her racing heart-rate. Passion was etched into every crevice of her expression, eyes darkened and half-lidded, widening just a fraction each time he pumped into her. And he thought she looked absolutely beautiful on a level he couldn't explain.

"Fakir!" she cried, legs beginning to fumble in their awkward grasp around his middle. She moved with his quickening pace as well as she could manage, gasps pouring continually from her mouth. Desperate to cease them, she jutted her head out to find contact with his lips, catching a glimpse of the growing euphoria on his features before she mashed her searching mouth against his own.

The hot entanglement was unlike any dance she had ever experienced. There was no strict pattern to the steps and moves. Each wild and spontaneous movement erupted and changed at a will that seemed beyond the control of them both. He was still leading with every rough pound into her, but even he could not steer them clearly. Breathing had long since become anything but erratic bursts for air and noises that were completely indistinguishable and almost animalistic to replace coherent words and sounds. His impossibly fast penetrations and subsequent removals from the slick heat had lost all rhythm. And now the two were urgently staggering and moving against one another with a desperation that clung tight enough to burst at any moment.

It was intoxicating, overwhelmingly powerful, and laced with so much heat that it almost seemed as though the frantic movements of the pair were actually _creating_ the steam that floated around them.

And then the building feelings became unbearable to hold onto any longer. The redhead reached the flaming height of ecstasy just before her partner when he ruthlessly impaled her to brim, unforgiving crashes of her very first release racking through her small form and constricting her nerves and limbs from the inside out. She screamed openly and shrilly - an echoed noise that provoked him to immediately follow her as he grasped her buttocks firmly in his hands, his own voice hitting the warm air as he allowed his essence to spill into her short, hot floods.

They shook and convulsed around each other, riding out every last second of the mutual orgasms, eyes glassy, and pulses thumping irregularly against one another through their pressed chests. The bathroom and everything had disappeared from the recesses of their minds, the throes of pleasure having taken them to a place far, far away.

It seemed like forever before the euphoric sensations receded little by little, the surroundings coming back into focus and the ever-present spray of the ignored shower filling the eardrums of the tangled pair once more. Fully exhausted, Fakir slowly eased their bodies down to rest in the bathtub, the exertion from their activities still forcing heavy pants to release from his mouth. Once he shifted to hold her against him, the ex-knight abruptly realized that they were still quite_ joined _at the center. Blushing a little, he carefully pulled out of her with a small grunt and loosened her grip around his neck so he could twist her around to lean up against his chest.

As she sighed and curled her hands between their naked forms, he arched his head down far enough to brush his lips across her forehead in a soft, affectionate press. "Interrupting my shower," he commented in a winded, but bemused manner. "That was unusually bold of you."

Ahiru stiffened and was almost sure he could feel the heat embarrassment from her face pressed to his bare skin. "W-Well..." she stammered awkwardly, keeping her eyes away from his view. The redhead didn't know if she was ready to tell him everything just yet. She felt tired and sore and she'd probably say something stupid...

"You...You left the shower running!" she suddenly announced, pointing to the drizzle that still grazed them slightly from above.

With a sigh, the young man inwardly conceded to let it go for the time being. He would get an explanation for her uncharacteristic behavior sooner or later. Unfortunately for her, he was far from forgetful. "Your point?"

She shifted her legs to a more comfortable position, a pout forming on her features. "It's a waste of water, isn't it?"

"Then..." he trailed off, leaning over and reaching one of his long arms to the temperature and pressure knobs - which he fixed to his fancy until the water above stopped and instead proceeded to leak out of the lower faucet. And with a flick upward of the little switch on top of it, the water gradually started to fill the tub.

Returning his hold to the lithe figure on his lap, he placed a kiss down along the back of her neck. "Let's make use of it, shall we? I'd say we're both a bit...sticky, after that."

And that was the perfect word to describe it, as far as the duck-girl was concerned. She wasn't sure what was perspiration and what was normal water anymore. It all felt kinda weird. And her lower body definitely had that stickiness to it. Sliding her foot across the warm water that had filled the very bottom of the bathtub, she glanced up at her boyfriend with the hint of a smile. "It was already pretty late when I got here. I guess that means I'm spending the night, huh?"

Fakir ruffled her matted wet hair with one hand. "I do have an extra bed," he supplied matter-of-factly. Then he leaned down toward her face with a ghost of a smile hanging on the corners of his lips. "Unless...you'd rather share mine."

To further his amusement, her cheeks flushed a bright red at the prospect. Really, the girl made it far too easy to tease her. Leaning back to give her a bit of space, he raised an eyebrow at the redhead. "What? You can step into my shower, but you can't handle sharing a bed with me?"

"I--I didn't say that!" she countered, puffing her cheeks out in some vain attempt to mask her prior reaction. "You just---you cheat! Getting all close like that and---"

He cut her off as he dove in for a sweet, lingering kiss, which she quickly reciprocated, feeling a slight spark from what they had indulged in together just minutes before. And Ahiru could still feel her lips tingling even after he pulled away. It was astounding, now that she knew just where those sparks could lead. They had certainly shared something very special.

Sliding one of his legs up to act as a barrier on one side, Fakir snaked his arms around her, pulling her naked form possessively against his own. He breathed in the moisture from her hair, running one hand along her flat stomach. "Is it any surprise that I want to be close to you?"

A tiny grin curved her lips and she sighed contentedly, tracing a single finger in a horizontal line along his collarbone. "I want to stay with you," she voiced lightly, but with a sincere warmth in her tone.

"That's fortunate," he informed her, green eyes staring into her shining blue and his hold upon her tightening a fraction. "As I have no intentions of letting you leave my side."

And the unexpected response he received was a splash of lukewarm bathwater directly to the face. Sputtering, he wiped his soggy and dripping bangs away from his eyes to meet the laughing luster in his girlfriend's gaze. "That was completely uncalled for..." he muttered, a scowl forming on his features.

"I had to get you back for taking me off-guard!" she stated proudly with a huff.

He flicked his wet hair off to the side, a smirk fixing onto his lips. "Do you really want to challenge me?"

She blinked, as if contemplating the idea for a second. Then, with an over-dramatic and loud sigh, she flopped against him. "No," she admitted, her finger smoothing nonsense patterns on his tan skin again. "I'm too tired for that."

"And have you decided on sleeping arrangements?" he inquired, twirling a lock of red hair with his hand.

"I guess I can stay with you in yours," she said nonchalantly. "Under one condition."

"Condition?" he echoed, arching one brow at her.

She nodded and then pushed enough distance away from him to meet his gaze head on, almost a perfect copy of his trademark frown etched onto her face. "You don't try to keep me _awake_."

He blinked and then glanced down to where her free hand had taken his wrist, ceasing where his hand had crawled up to rest on the top of her thigh, fingers curling dangerously close to the area between her legs.

A sheepish blush seeped into his cheeks, but to throw her off, he managed to flash her a clearly suggestive--and almost wicked--smile (which widened just a bit when he felt her squirm uneasily on top of him).

He chastely kissed the tip of her nose. "I make no promises."

-------------------------

AN: ...I've always wanted to write shower smex, so this was an enjoyable little exercise for me. (Although I apologize for little use of the shower itself. lol) And due to my desire to write smut that has some form of plot, I added a conflict and reasoning to things so this wouldn't be completely random. Plus I wanted some random cuteness and bickering at the end. So sue me.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry if my writing has not been up to par as of late, or if you're tired of seeing this kind of fanfiction from me. But we write what we're inspired to do, right?

Any comments and criticisms are always welcome and appreciated.

Thank you for reading.


	3. Unfinished Assignment

AN: Heeeey guys! Guess who? Er... right.

So, I've come bearing more smut. And this time, it's another kink meme prompt!

But before I get into that, I want to especially thank the following: atsirk, jo, purplechicken21, and 329329! I've been feeling quite poor about my writing as of late, as well as my novice smut attempts, so I'm so very thankful for your support! You guys really helped me get through writing this one, even when I was feeling discouraged along the way. And on that same route, much thanks to my LJ friends who have been supporting me, as well. (You know who you guys are.) It really makes me happy to know that I'm not completely failing at this and some of you actually do find it enjoyable to read. So, again, thanks to you guys. And I really hope you'll enjoy this chapter, too.

Prompter: Animeshen

Prompt/Kink: _'Okay, you asked for it. I want Fakir masturbating while watching Ahiru dance in a ballet leotard she doesn't realize shes grown out of. The closer Fakir's proximity to Ahiru WITHOUT being discovered, the better.'_

Dedicated to: Animeshen, as it is her prompt that brought this smut bunny to life!

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all of its characters do not belong to me. They are the property of the wonderful Itoh Ikuko. I merely borrow them for my own selfish fanfic-ing purposes.

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**Unfinished Assignment**

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The halls were bare. And as far as Fakir was concerned, that was the only plus to being stuck walking through the Academy after dark.

He was irritated with himself. Which was nothing new, really. As of late, his behavior over certain... _things_ was troublesome. But with this particular incident, he had been careless enough to leave the rough draft for his essay (which was unfortunately due tomorrow) inside of his damn locker. Which resulted in having to come back to the damn school and get it once he realized the papers were missing from his satchel.

On the bright side, he had found the back door to the main building to be open. Fakir briefly considered that might mean someone else was present within, but tossed the thought from his conscious immediately. That didn't matter, regardless.

With a glower at expanse of darkened hall ahead, the ex-knight shoved his hands into his pockets and quickened the pace of his feet. The sooner he got the parchment, the sooner he could leave and finally finish his homework.

And that was the inner resolve he had conjured just before he saw something odd - which subsequently slowed his steps.

A single door up ahead was left ajar - just a sliver - allowing a thin stream of dim light to pour through the tiny opening. He recognized it as one of the ballet practice rooms and came to a halt just outside of the door. Had some idiot left the light on? Irrationally aggravated by the thought - as well as the inner nagging that he should go in and shut it off, Fakir lifted a hand to the door, ready to just throw the damn thing open in his frustration...

And stopped, just an inch from his fingertips touching the brass handle.

There was _noise_ coming from inside. Soft footfalls pitter-pattering across the floor, labored breathing...

The dark-haired young man blinked in confusion. Why on earth would someone be practicing ballet this late? Surely they knew the building was generally closed after six. Perhaps they had lost track of time?

Curious, despite his prior hurry to fix his own pressing issue, Fakir leaned forward and cautiously peered through the scant opening - which promptly pulled a gasp of shock from the reaches of his throat. His wide green eyes easily recognized that familiar female figure. She was short in stature, sported long red hair twisted up into bun on the back of her head, expressive blue eyes, and had a small, lithe body.

Ahiru was the _last_ person he expected to see dancing in the empty school at this hour.

...And she was also the last thing he wanted to think about. That oblivious moron had been edging into his conscious so frequently that it was starting to drive him mad, little by little. It was as though she had situated herself right on the corner of his mind, not unlike a duck building a nest, sticks and branches of it poking and prodding uncomfortably at his brain.

His next immediate thought was to leave - simply turn and be on his way before she worked her strange, infuriating magic and stopped him from being capable of thinking straight. It wasn't his concern if she wanted to practice dancing this late at night. He had more important things to be taking care of, after all.

With a short, calculated intake of breath, the young man pulled away from the halo of light around the opening of the door, turning his gaze away from girl within. He fixed his eyes in the direction he _needed_ to be going, and lifted a foot to start off toward the waiting locker rooms.

Only to hear a very audible thump mixed with a stifled shriek.

On reflex, Fakir swiftly turned his attention back to the miniscule opening he had abandoned, searching for the redhead. Had she fallen? Was she all right? His eyes searched, not finding her in plain sight - until he caught her reflection in the mirrors paneled on the side of the room across from his vantage point.

She was sitting on the polished floor with her back facing the mirrored side, legs bent out in front her and rubbing the area just below her spine with one hand. And with a dramatic sigh, the redhead rose from the floor and faced the other direction, absently brushing off the front of her leotard.

Fakir thought she looked very tired. The normally bright luster of her eyes seemed a little duller than usual, and her shoulders hunched in a way that suggested she had been at this for quite some time. ...But how long? Why wouldn't the moron just take a rest or call it quits for one night? He was almost sorely tempted to barge in and demand she go back to her dorm and get some sleep before she collapsed.

However, that thought quickly dissolved from existence when the young girl furrowed her brows and went back to dancing, carefully extending one leg behind her in arabesque. It was a little off-center and lacking some grace, he noted, having a keen eye for dancing himself. But it was crystal clear from her focused features that she was giving it all she had, no matter how lacking the result might be.

And it was easily past nine by now. He had to admit that he admired her legs.

Fakir blinked, flushing as he realized what he'd just thought. No, dammit! Not _legs_. Work ethic. Stamina. Determination. WHERE THE HELL HAD THAT OTHER WORD COME FROM!?

He swiftly turned his head to face away from the door and across the short width of the hall, already feeling a heat growing steadily in his cheeks with each passing second. His back pressed up against the closed side of the twin doors as he swallowed. She obviously hadn't been hurt from her fall. He had no reason to stick around here any longer. It wasn't his concern if she looked tired or weary. And if that idiot collapsed, it would be her own damn fault.

The soft, moving footfalls from her dancing reached his ears again and the writer's eyes automatically flicked to the side and through the opening, reflexively searching for the source of the sound. And they widened instantly when they landed on her. The quick steps had been in preparation for a jete - which she was now airborne with, legs spread wide through the air.

Fakir hadn't seemed to process the fact that he was still staring dumbly after she had touched down again. His green eyes were steadily trained on her form as she moved across the floor, following every step and every new position she formed as she practiced the art she clearly loved.

While 'graceful' was not the term he would use to describe her dancing, there was something about it that demanded his gaze to root to her. Which he did almost without thought, as if his eyes were being tugged along with her on invisible strings. He could not tear them from the redhead - not that he had even considered trying.

Captivating. That was the word. But the ex-knight paid his brief writer's insight little mind.

He watched her silently, gaze turning to the mirrored-panels whenever she would pirouette or bound out of his line of sight. Unconsciously, he began to lean in toward the opening a little, somehow drawn to it - or more specifically, to _her_. And that was ridiculous by every line of logic he knew. She could not beckon him when she didn't even know he was there in the first place. But his mind was quickly wavering away from the concept of logic altogether.

All that mattered was watching her. He wanted nothing more than to witness her every move - every arch, bend, twist, stretch...

Slowly, Fakir began to notice things about Ahiru that had nothing to do with her dancing at all: small beads and lines of sweat upon her face and neck that glowed with the dim light, the awkward, but appealing shape of her legs, curled locks of red that plastered to her cheeks, forehead, and the back of her neck, the way her eyes would close and her mouth would open in a perfect 'o' shape when she pushed her limits, the swell and bounce of her small, shapely breasts straining against taught fabric that looked much to small to hold them in properly, graciously displaying a tantalizing amount of--

THUNK.

The young man stifled a muffled curse of pain when he hit his head against the door from his sudden jarring movement away from the opening to the practice room. But he could not focus on the throb at the back of his head. Nor the possibility that the room's only occupant may very well have heard the noise. He was too preoccupied with struggling to regain his breath and attempting to contain and disperse the massive flock of burning heat that attacked his face from all sides.

He did not just look at her chest.

He did **not **just _ogle her breasts_!

What the hell was wrong with him!? Appreciating the art of ballet was one thing, but now he had begun appraising the dancer herself in ways that were very inappropriate.

Yes, she had grown a fair amount in the past two and a half years since he changed her back. That much was undeniable - anyone would notice the changes offhandedly. Such differences were common with growing up and everyone experienced them in some way. It was normal.

However, staring at her like a goddamn peeping tom from behind the tiny crack of an opening of a door was _not_.

Fakir had been stubbornly insisting to himself that he was not, in any way, attracted to her. The past few weeks had been irritating and troubling to him in manners he was not familiar with. He was not like the other sickening parts of the male species that unfortunately happened to be in many of his classes. He did not compare girls' chest sizes, or join in the boys' appalling conversations about 'conquests'. He didn't care which girls were considered good kissers or desirable by the rest of the young men.

But then he would see her - the short, unassuming and cheerful friend and former partner of his - and something changed. Suddenly he would wonder how _she_ would take to kissing and study the softness of her pink lips in silence as she rambled on about her day to him. He would feel strange urges to reach out and touch her - whether to simply brush a strand of salmon-colored hair that hung in her face, cup her cheek with his calloused hand, or even pull her right into his arms.

And once he snapped out of those alien thoughts, he would become infuriated with himself for contemplating such things. It wasn't uncommon for him to stalk off right in the middle talking with her, or even turning around and heading the opposite direction when he saw her approaching. Fakir feared those thoughts and odd, inexplicable urges. He was a damn coward and that overshadowed even risking to hurt her feelings just for his own peace of mind.

However, that idiot was easily just as stubborn as he was. She didn't take his ignoring lightly or allow him his own personal bubble to hide in. If he walked away from her, she followed. If he said rude things to her, she would kick him the shin, and pout, and ask him why he was being so mean. The stern glares and warning glowers didn't intimidate her any longer. She knew as well as he did that they had come far past what was on the surface of each other. Even as dense as she normally was, the duck-girl could tell that something was bothering him. And she seemed determined to get it out of him whether he wanted to share it with her or not.

Which lead to a certain interference on her part that he could not forget about no matter how hard he tried.

Ahiru had, unknowingly, given him his first erection.

And the memory of that incident was still far too clear in his mind for his liking.

_"Hey! Fakir! You JERK! Don't you go running off again! I know you saw me!"_

_The dark-haired youth tried his best to ignore the fast-approaching steps on the grass behind him, picking up his pace as he made his way behind the ballet division building. If he could just get to the collection of hedges nearby, he could lose her easily..._

_"FAKIR!" the girl's voice was clearly angry now, the steps having broken into a trot. "I'm getting tired of this! Just tell me what's wrong! Or what I did! Or whatever this is about!"_

_A growl of annoyance filtered out through his thin-lined lips. "I'm busy, dammit!"_

_"Yeah right!" she countered immediately with a snort. "You saw me and then you immediately turned around and went the other way!"_

_"I remembered something I had forgotten, that's all." His tone was clipped as he willed his feet into a speed-walk toward the rapidly approaching rows of rose hedges, "Now go away and mind your own business for once."_

_"Fakir!" her voice had taken on a whining edge as she broke into a run, finally gaining on him. "Tell me why you're avoiding me! I'm not stupid, you know! Even if you think I am. I can tell something's not right!"_

_He paused in front of the bush, glancing back at her from over his shoulder. "If you're not a moron, then quit worrying over nothing. Now, I have business to attend to." And with the graceful leap of a trained dancer, he easily vaulted the rose branches and disappeared to the other side, successfully vanishing from the immediate sight of his redheaded pursuer._

_It took a moment for the duck-girl to snap out of the awe of watching his flawless athletic bound before she blinked, realizing she'd just been ditched. "H-Hey! Fakir!" she shouted into the thick hedges. "That's--That's not fair!"_

_With a heavy sigh, the ex-knight tuned her out and continued down the path, shaking his head back and forth as he stared at his feet. Fakir knew he couldn't really keep doing this. Sooner or later he'd have to face her and stop running away from all of those uncomfortable thoughts, no matter how much he wanted to keep ignoring it all. She really didn't deserve to be so blatantly shunned, and especially not with the numerous lies he kept composing to feed her with._

_And the longer he kept this damn ruse up, the closer it was to breaking his promi--_

_"GOTCHA!"_

_Green eyes looked up in surprise - just long enough to catch a glimpse of the flaming red before he felt the impact of the short girl and fell backward, landing none-too-gently on his tailbone. Groaning in pain, he sat up -- or tried to, rather -- almost immediately prevented from doing so with the weight that had settled down on his stomach. _

_A very displeased-looking Ahiru frowned down at him. And cherry red consumed his face in a heated blush as he sputtered, "W-W-What are you doing, you idiot!?"_

_She puffed her cheeks out in irritation before breathing out through her nose. "I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on."_

_Fakir stared at her in dumb shock for a brief time until his eyebrows furrowed together, arms lifting him up to his elbows in attempt to face her more directly. "Get the hell off of me right now!" he demanded, glaring hard at redhead, although his face was still very obviously flushed._

_"No," she retorted immediately with an almost childlike pout. "I'm gonna make myself comfortable right here until you want to talk." And to accent that, she moved back and forth a little on top of him, crossing her arms defiantly._

_Whatever words he was about to yell next died on his lips when she rubbed up over his stomach and back over his crotch area, forcing the young writer to suck in a sharp, breathy gasp as a spark flew threw his body. The unexpected contact of her warm weight rubbing down over his middle area seemed to have brought rational thought to a jarring halt. His arms swiftly gave out, causing him to fall back onto the cobblestone as his mind struggled to process what he had just experienced._

_"Well?" she prompted impatiently. _

_Fakir had to swallow thickly before he could coax a reply out of his mouth that suddenly felt far too dry. "Y-You---I SAID GET OFF!" A desperate hand rose with the command, meaning to push at her. The duck girl merely grabbed the offending appendage with one of her own hands and glowered down at her captive. She lifted up just a little, as though following through with his wishes, but then quickly flopped right back down onto him again._

_  
The dark-haired male's eyes bulged. Another, deeper and more startling shock rippled through his system, followed by a train of warmth that situated right into his groin area. He had to swallow several times to stop the strange sound that attempted to climb out of his throat._

_What the hell was she doing to him!?_

_And the longer she sat there, the more that warmth and tingling sensation spread within him, forcing his breaths to become gradually shallower. He knew he should just break the grip on his hand and shove her off, but his arms were refusing to cooperate. _

_"Why won't you just tell me?" Ahiru implored as she squirmed restlessly in her position, unaware of the effect her movements were having on the trapped young man beneath her._

_A grunt released from Fakir's mouth when she rocked from side to side, another shot of fire burning through his center area. It was becoming overbearing. Almost to the point that he wanted to start moving back against her and keep that strange, pleasurable friction going._

_The ex-knight abruptly froze and felt a significant amount of color drain from his cheeks. There was a growing stiffness in him just beneath the weight rested down onto his groin - right where that heat was all concentrated. Amidst the hazed mess his mind was slowly becoming, he understood what was happening. _

_And he didn't want to believe it._

_With a sudden, massive burst of panic-induced adrenaline, Fakir ripped his hand away from hers and grabbed both of her arms by the wrists. The girl only managed to let out a startled squeak before he quickly swapped their positions - his figure now looming over to glare dangerously down at her, holding both wrists pinned next to either side of her head as he knelt over her prone form._

_He opened his mouth to shout at her for not listening, but the words caught in his throat before they could release. _

_Fakir was abruptly stunned to dead silence by the image of Ahiru laying down before him. Her expression was clearly surprised, cheeks flushed and wide cerulean blue eyes unwavering in their gaze back upon his own. A curtain of pinkish-red spilled out around her head, braid somehow having come half-undone inbetween the change in positions and seemingly giving an extra glow to the color already lighting her face. Her lips were parted just a bare hint, full and pink and just begging to be kissed..._

_And in those few scarce moments of simply looking at her beneath him, Fakir's pants became unbearably tight and constricting._

_Never had he felt a desire or a want so strong. It struck him to the very core with a myriad of sensations that threatened to spur him into action. The thoughts and urges that formed as a result were intense and his fingers flexed over her immobile wrists. He wanted to mold his mouth over hers, touch areas of her bare, soft skin and press her down into the stone path with his body, roughly grind his aching shaft against her..._

_And the realization of the nature of those thoughts woke him up from the blinding lull of lust with a force equivalent to being hit by a bolt of lightning. The young writer gasped audibly and immediately released her arms, lurching away from her and stumbling shakily back to his feet. Shame lit his face red with embarrassment, tinted even further by the arousal still churning deep within his body._

_He could not believe what he had just considered doing to her._

_Without giving her time to collect herself or respond in any manner, Fakir swiftly turned and fled without a word, leaving a very disoriented and confused redhead in his wake._

...Thankfully, she had no idea what had happened that day. And the ex-knight wanted to keep it that way. Such inappropriate desires weren't meant to blemish an innocence like hers.

And now here he was spying on her dance practicing and staring for far too long at things he shouldn't have been looking at in the first place.

If Ahiru knew the kind of young man he was shaping up to be, she would probably freely avoid him without him having to go out of his way to keep enough distance from her. However, he was far too much of a coward to tell her the truth. And to make matters worse, little by little, he felt almost as though he was truly breaking his promise.

Which, in fact, he was. Avoiding her in the manner he had become accustomed to, translated to roughly the _opposite_ of staying by her side. Heaving a sigh through his nostrils, Fakir righted himself against the door, eyes wandering back to the opening of the enclosure where he could still hear the girls footfalls as she continued her practices, oblivious to his presence just outside of the room.

Despite the waves of remorse and shame that sifted through his conscience, the ex-knight could still feel that tingling warmth begin to stir within him. He had no choice but to distance himself from her as much as possible. What could have happened if he had acted on any of those errant thoughts that had invaded his mind when she was trapped underneath of him?

He wanted to be closer to her. Even in ways he was certain were not appropriate. It was for her own good that he was pushing her away. At least until he got it under better control...

And for the first time, Fakir admitted to himself that he was attracted to her. So much, in fact, that it frightened him.

Just then, the redhead heaved a rather long sigh and folded down onto the floor, spreading her legs out in front of her and blowing a stray lock of hair from her face. "I guess I need a little break," she spoke to herself, placing her hands behind her and leaning back on them.

Abruptly, Fakir became aware just _how_ tiny the leotard was on her. They were supposed to cling and be form fitting, of course, but the way it hugged her curves and limbs was almost like a second skin... and leaving very little to his imagination as a result. He squirmed against the door, discomfort heightening steadily even while the girl simply reclined in a nonchalant manner.

He should leave. He knew he should. They weren't even touching in this instance and she was still clearly having that strange effect on him - and his body, despite that. It would be simple just to walk away and continue what he had set out here to do in the first place.

The young dark-haired man blinked. What _had_ he come here for? There was something, but now he could not recall exactly what it was.

As if to interrupt his thought process all over again, Ahiru suddenly straightened and lifted back to her feet, stretching her arms out over her head. His eyes followed her the whole time, drifting down to her pert rear as she bent over and touched her toes. He remembered that warm weight of her on top of him in the gardens and how it felt to have it pressed right down over his manhood. And he slid down a few inches against the door and then arched back up again, as if feeling an invisible friction from the memory alone.

The heat already engulfing his face was growing and spreading down, mixing and churning with a burning sensation that drifted all the way down to the area of his groin. How would it feel with her bare skin pressuring down upon him, he wondered, and his hidden shaft seemed throb with want at the thought.

His eyes became half-lidded as he watched her approach the mirrors, easily hefting one of small legs up onto the barre and bending over it to stretch the muscles out. A very common practice and stretching technique. There was nothing special about it.

And yet Fakir's heart began pumping more quickly in his chest as he regarded her lithe figure performing the same action over and over again. He was having much more difficulty thinking coherently in safer paths to muse upon any longer. He wanted that body to move across his own and couldn't help but fantasize of being right there with her at the wooden barre, matching his form's rhythm to hers.

On a shuddering breath released with agonizing slowness, he reached down to the front of his trousers and carefully rubbed the aching bulge that had formed there, never once taking his eyes off the redhead as he did so.

This was dirty. Dirty and wrong and he was filled with self-loathing as he proceeded to stroke himself while he peeked at the duck-girl through the open crack of the door.

He wanted to believe he was different - more sophisticated and with much more self-control than other young men his age. There was no absolute _need_ for this kind of indulgence, was there? It was a guilty pleasure, not so 'natural' as everyone else seemed to claim it was. And it was a weakness of both mind and body. A knight would not succumb to carnal desires and needs of the body in this way. Duty and honor were far more important.

And even if he wasn't a knight anymore, this was one of the most dishonorable things he could ever think of doing. Especially given the circumstances. First he avoided the poor girl at every turn, and now he watched her from a secluded place with an unabashedly hungry and lustful gaze while he imagined doing inappropriate things to and with her. What kind of horrible person was he becoming?

The writer tensed when Ahiru changed positions, his hand stilling and green eyes widening.

Oh god, when she arched back like that with her mouth open--

_"Fakiiiir!"_

The sound of her voice calling his name passionately, even though it only existed in his mind, made his breath catch in his throat and his hardness throb against the tight material of his black pants with a fresh stab of desire.

Wrong. Dirty. Dishonorable. Despicable. Shameful. Perverted--

His vocabulary listed off those words and more into his mind in rapid succession as he hurriedly undid the clasp of his pants, closing his eyes briefly when Ahiru released a small vocal noise that made the tight band of heat in his center area threaten to burst.

Whispers in his head hastened to coax him into giving in completely: There was no one else in the school. It was dark. No one would know. If he could keep himself quiet, even she would be none the wiser. Her innocence would not be lost, or damaged, or even threatened.

Perhaps _he_ would be a low, disgusting creature for this act, but relief... he needed to have it. He couldn't have her. And if he wanted to protect her, then this was the only way to reach satisfaction by coming as close to being with her as he could without actually touching her or endangering her purity.

"Ngghh..." Fakir winced when he pulled his stiff manhood right out from his pants and boxers, the cool hallway air making him realize just how sensitive that part of him truly was in this state. Keeping his back flat to the door, he returned his gaze to the object of his shameful want. She had just settled into the basic first position and held it, her expression appearing determined despite the simplicity of the position.

As the young man curled his right hand's fingers around his length, he knew he had just sealed his fate - one he did not have the mental or physical strength to even _try_ to defy. And there was no turning back now.

Ahiru fluidly changed to second position, her chest stretching out on either side with the movement of her arms, and legs spreading to a fair distance apart on either side. His eyes roved over every inch of her spread-eagled form as he slid his hand up and down over his erect penis at a languid, careful speed.

_He could imagine pinning her down to the floor just like that, her legs open and inviting, blue eyes pleading and expectant..._

The ex-knight panted as he gripped himself with a little more force from the unnecessary imagery his brain had concocted. The thought of her helpless and bare beneath him should have bothered him, at least for her sake. But as sickening as it was to admit it, that scenario _excited him terribly _- just like the previous instance out in the hedges.

Fakir wasn't even following her position changes after first to second, now only taking in how her arm and leg movements made the fabric of the leotard pull across her body in various appealing ways. He almost expected her breasts to fall free of confinement, given how low of a dip the collar of the small dancing outfit made just barely over the mounds.

_He squeezed both sides firmly in his hands, relishing in the moan of pleasure from the redhead as he teased the little pink protrusions to a hardened, ready state._

"Haaah... haaaaa!" Fakir struggled to hold his quickening breathy gasps in while his hand stroked rough and fast over his erection. Whether there was still any amount of guilt left or not, he had abandoned his earlier restraint and started to move against the gliding motion of his hand. And still his eyes remained glued to her, hazed and glassy green unable to break even a precious moment from regarding her every move.

Finished with the basic positions, Ahiru turned her back to the barre and used one hand for support upon it as she lifted her right leg as high as it would go in front of her, the other hand's small fingers pressing to the underside of her thigh to push herself further.

_She was naked and pressed flushly to the barre, cheeks flaring pink and fingers curled down to hold on either side of the wood to keep balance. Her legs were entwined around his back and bare front glistening with sweat that collected down into the valley between her little bouncing breasts. She choked out his name over and over in ecstasy as he slammed into her slick warmth and rattled the mirror image behind them._

Fakir inhaled sharply as a white hot sensation poured through his veins like liquid fire. What he had just indirectly imagined doing to her on the barre against the mirrors was previously unthinkable - it had only gone so far as a little pleasing friction before. And now he had already stooped low enough to envision having actual intercourse with her. Dirty imagery that formed while he secretly spied on her and masturbated to watching her dance.

But the shame and self-depreciating disgust would not come and swallow him. The maddening wish to experience that forbidden act with her was too unfathomably strong for anything else to contend with. Even if those more unpleasant feelings were still present and lurking somewhere inside, the blinding image of sex (in that very room where she currently was) suffocated the others until he could not respond to them.

He already felt close. The thought of kissing or molding his figure against hers had been arousing, but now it was a hundred fold when those musings had escalated to far more dangerous territory.

Fakir's panting breaths had turned shallow and more erratic, fisted hand wildly thrusting over his hard length with an uncontrolled pace. Being inside of her, moving within her wet warmth... just wondering about how it would feel was nearly enough to drive him insane with desire.

The ex-knight's eyelids drooped a little further when she turned toward the mirror, both hands gripping the barre as she extended a leg behind her. Temptation urged him to lean closer to the door, his hand not ceasing its pumping over his shaft. He could fix his clothing and walk in easily, apologize for his behavior and request to dance with her, tell her how beautiful she was and how he could not take his eyes off of her, arouse her, strip the form-fitting fabric from her body, make love to her right there on the floor...

He entertained the idea with an odd amount of seriousness given his current state, already moving to stuff his still-pulsing erection back into his boxers.

And then froze when the severity of those thoughts splashed him like ice cold water over the searing heat. Utter disgust with himself rose above the burning lust as he jerked back back away from the opening of the door.

How could he...

How could he even _think_ of...

Fakir released a strangled breath, appalled with what his thoughts had morphed into. He dared think of taking her innocence while he was trying to protect it? And even begin to _act _on that urge?

Despicable. He did not deserve to protect her at all, much less allow himself this incredibly selfish form of relief. Maybe breaking his promise entirely would be for the best. He was the danger to her now. _He_ was the threat that lurked in the shadows.

What an ironic turn of events. She might never forgive him, but--

The young man's darkened green eyes broadened to saucers when they settled on the redhead again, and his previous thoughts vanished. She was sitting on the floor, a little blue towel wrapped about her shoulders, and drinking from a milk bottle that appeared to be filled with water.

Once again, his self-loathing dissipated under fresh tendrils of heat that curled and clamped about his face and neck and groin. His hand immediately sought its former grip on his manhood as his eyes bore into her, avidly taking in everything he could see from his hidden vantage point. The way her lips were puckered around the nozzle of the glass was reminiscent of something else. And bringing a very inappropriate fantasy to mind before he could prevent it.

_Her lips teased along the very tip of his shaft, closing around it for the briefest moment that made him twitch in anticipation. He dug his fingers into her hair and tugged forward, eager for her to take him into the waiting cavern of her mouth. And she complied, mouth opening further to allow more of his girth inside. He gave a staggering breath which swiftly turned into a deep groan when her tongue licked the base, swathing the veined texture on the underside with her warm, wet appendage. And then she suckled, drawing a gasp of shocked pleasure from his throat, the sheer sensations of her mouth assaulting him from every angle with no nuance of mercy. He recklessly pulled her forward by the grip of her red locks, forcing her to take more of his length in and then out, in and out..._

Fakir's hand followed those motions as she continued to guzzle the water down, obviously very thirsty from her workout. He struggled to hold in a fierce grunt when her pink lips constricted around the bottle's end, his fingertips flexing and squeezing around the erection to mimic her gesture.

But it was when she dribbled water down her front that he completely lost it.

His pupils dilated in the darkness, the binding threads of scorching heat that held him captive all exploding at once and dousing his vision with bright white. A pained, whispered cry of her name escaped his throat as he was consumed by euphoria, his essence spilling out of his tip and over the hallway floor below him.

Fakir wasn't sure how much time had passed before he could finally see and think straight again, but he found himself sitting down against the door and breathing harshly, limp shaft still held loosely in his fingertips. He could feel the faded stickiness of cum on his hand, and blanched when he noticed the substance on the floor in a mess in front of him.

Oh _god_, how he was he supposed to clean up--

"Whoa!" the startled voice from within the room suddenly cried out, and the writer nearly bashed his head against the door in surprise of the outburst. He took a fleeting peek toward her, to see that she was apparently looking at something out of his view. "It must be so late! Oh no, I lost track of time, didn't I?! Fakir would call me a moron if he knew..."

But in fact, the young man was cursing _himself_ into oblivion within his head, face flaring with unfathomable embarrassment over what he had just done. Heaving in attempt to control and calm the rapid beating of his heart, he hurriedly tucked his manhood back into his boxers and did up his trousers with fumbling fingers.

There was no damn time to wipe up the traces of his dishonorable indulgence. If she realized how late it was, it wouldn't be long before--

"I'd better get back to the dorm!" she chirped.

He didn't even attempt to spare a glance to see how close that quick patter of feet was getting to his location. In a completely ungraceful and undignified manner, Fakir scrambled to his feet and scampered down the hall back the way he had originally come, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to depart. He absolutely could NOT let her catch him being here.

And thankfully for the retreating young man, the redhead that poked her head out from the door had miraculously not heard or seen his frantic exit.

...Or perhaps she was just too preoccupied with staring at the floor outside of the ballet practice room, a confused expression etched onto her features.

"Someone spilled milk on the floor?"

-------------------

Fakir ran all the way back to Charon's without once slowing down or looking back.

He needed to hide in his room for a week. Or a month. However long it took to convince himself that he was not a sick, twisted freak of nature. However long it took to stop wishing that fate would come back with a vengeance and tear him in two, or shred him to bits. However long it took to be able to actually face her again without feeling like the scum of the earth for what he did---and imagined doing.

And his original goal - the essay he had been so intent to retrieve and finish - was completely forgotten.

------------

AN: ...Ahahaha. Wow. Don't kill me, okay? I'm sure you realize by now that this fic is meant to be mature stuff.

Anyway, despite the... subject matter, I tried to make this at least somewhat believable for the characters. Particularly Fakir. I could see him dealing with his hormones that way, and feeling absolutely terrible for doing it. Poor guy.

Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this installment! Reviews are, as always, greatly loved and appreciated. And thanks to Animeshen for the challenging prompt! It was pretty interesting to write. I hope this fits for what you were looking for!

And as always, thank you for reading!


	4. Broken Crowns and Shattered Armor

AN: Hi, guys. I actually have a few smut stories that I'm working on, but this idea bit me so hard (when I was trying to sleep, ironically) that I just had to write it while I had the motivation and inspiration. And truth be told, this started as something more related to an RP and an idea a friend and I were throwing around (and likely will still use), but I was dying to see it work in a 'full' way, you could say. But no worries! This has nothing to do with the RP itself - that's just where we were going to originally use the idea.

Other Notes: This is medieval AU (Alternate Universe). Many mentions of war and death. And there is a kidnapping with a twist. And lots of stubbornness and banter. Plus... a shoulder massage...?

Warnings: Well, smut, of course. And besides that, I apologize for anything that doesn't fit into the medieval setting. I admit I did noooo research. I just wrote and kept on writing while the inspiration and motivation were running strong.

Please read through until the end! And I hope you will enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all of its characters do not belong to me.

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**Broken Crowns and Shattered Armor**

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Dying flames burned with embers of dulled red and gold, matching the fiery colors of the setting sun - and illustrating the end of a bloody battle laid out like a morbid canvas in its wake. Smoke spiraled into the air from various directions due to small, dwindling fires, creating a thin but almost heavy haze of gloom. Soldiers milled about, battered and bloody, torn-up and exhausted - but with grim, triumphant smiles curling up many of their lips. Some laughed as they prodded fallen bodies with the blades of their spears and swords, others held their heads high proudly as they walked among the numerous dead, eyes ablaze with the same fire as the sky where the sun slowly sunk deeper and deeper, like the blood of countless wounds across the battlefield that seeped down into the earth.

The castle of their conquest was in ruins, beaten and frayed stone lying in chunks along the once beautiful gardens. Two of its high towers were missing, leaving behind structures that were not unlike stumps of a tree after it had been cut. The cone steeples themselves lay in pieces on the ground below, one sticking up from the moat below. And upon the flat crest of the once magnificent castle, among the broken and useless remains of catapults and other protection weaponry, a cluster of the dark-clad soldiers formed a small circular group around a single flagpole. And the flag that fluttered almost defiantly in the light breeze, bearing a white swan and its golden crown, was being slowly lowered - lowered toward a flaming torch.

Cheers rang out as the cloth caught fire and the jeering of the men became loud as the burning flag was once again lifted toward the sky - its final wave of freedom before it became bits of charred ash lost on the wind. Bloodied weapons were hoisted into the air as the celebration continued, and a new flag was tied to the pulley of the flagpole, bearing the crest of a black phoenix with its wings spread wide.

"It's over," declared a middle-aged man who sported the same crest on his chest to match the flag that now blew proudly on the winds of victory. He removed his gold and black helmet, revealing dark, gray-streaked hair. "The king is dead, his men have fallen, the commoners and servants have been eternally silenced... we have fought bravely amongst our brethren and although we have lost many in number for our cause, we have taken back our glory!"

Another riot of cheers erupted from the small crowd, the dying light reflecting off of their sweaty faces and lighting their wide grins. However, the same man who had spoken before raised his hand, quieting the others with his simple gesture. His unshaven face had turned somber, almost troubled, with a frown pulling down his lips.

"One thing still remains," he announced clearly and gruffly. "All have been accounted for but one."

At this, murmurs of concern broke out amongst the soldiers, their voices openly discussing which single person would have avoided the bloodshed. The fields appeared empty, patrols had not run into any stragglers, but the chief knight himself appeared troubled.

"The princess," spoke a low voice from some distance away.

All at once the men turned, laying their eyes on a young man who stood along the chipped stone siding of the wall, watching the proceedings with a guarded expression and arms crossed over the very same crest as the rest of them beared. Despite his obviously young age, the dark-haired young man wore a black and red band tied around his upper right arm, just below the dark metal armor that encased his shoulders - a display of high rank.

"Perceptive as usual," praised the chief with a light smirk.

The young knight merely shrugged and looked away, his piercing green eyes fixing on the last remnants of the dying sun over the crest of rolling hills in the far distance.

One by one, the other soldiers lost interest and turned back to their chief, now most of them wearing almost mocking smiles of disbelief. One young blond spoke up amongst them, a snort escaping from him. "No one's left the premises, Sir. She's probably hiding, huddled in fright somewhere. We'll find 'er." He broke into laughter and many of the other men joined in, chorusing their agreement.

"Poor thing. Dearest daddy dead and kingdom in ruins. Nowhere left to run. She must be bawling her eyes out."

"Heh! That means we could probably find her by the sound of those cries alone!"

"How loud do you think she'll scream?"

"I bet if ya twist the blade just right..."

"Think we can have a little fun with her before we kill her off? She's a pretty little thing, after all..."

"Bet she's still innocent, too. It would be a waste to discard that so carelessly Not often you find one ripe like that."

"Aren't you a bit old to fool around with a girl her age?"

"All's fair in love and war, yeah?"

"And this is our victory!"

"Hear, hear!"

The only two not partaking in the jokes and mocking of the missing princess were the chief knight and the unnamed lone soldier, who looked both disinterested, and perhaps a bit ashamed of their comrades' behavior. Amidst the loud and boasting voices that declared their wishes for the princess's fate, murky brownish-red met with emerald green - and something silent passed between that gaze. With a tiny, almost imperceptible nod to his superior, the young knight pulled from his slouch against the wall. He knew what he was being asked to do. And to be honest, he thought the girl deserved a quick and discreet death, if only to escape the plans of the jeering band of leering soldiers nearby. Chances were, they were right that she was hiding alone somewhere and in great despair. It was best to end her suffering - and end the war once and for all.

And so the black-clad knight jumped over the side of the ledge, years of grueling training allowing him a safe and almost soundless drop to the ground below. The castle grounds were not large and he doubted the search would take long. Righting himself, he stilled, waiting for the wind to die down as he listened for the sounds of female distress or light sobbing. However, there was none to be heard - and so he set foot in the left direction, carefully retracing around the castle walls and keeping his keen eyes open and alert for any sign of movement or of bright, flowing hair.

Conveniently, his search ended before it really even started. On the back outskirts of the castle, he spotted her easily. So easily, that for a brief moment, he was completely taken aback, eyes broadening slightly in shock. She wasn't crouched down or pretending to be dead and nor did she appear to be in tears, either. How she managed to avoid the slaying blow of any soldiers to this point baffled him.

Her dress, full of golden skirts and white laces and silk was torn and bloodied as she trudged forward, dragging a fallen man by a stubborn grip under his arms. There were also no shoes on her feet at all, but she didn't appear to care or notice. Even from the mild distance away, he could tell that the girl seemed utterly exhausted - and yet she still pressed on - pulling the dead body to rest with a group of others that he assumed she must have brought together in a similar fashion. And in a little pile nearby was an assortment of weapons, all bloodstained and thrown together in a haphazard pile.

The young knight found himself temporarily stunned, just watching the young woman - who couldn't have been more than nineteen - scour a battlefield and recover fallen bodies, proceeding to pull out the weapons that lodged within them and rip her own rich clothing to use like mere rags to clean blood from their corpses and cover a few mangled faces. And she didn't even appear disgusted or reluctant in the least.

He had never personally met the princess of the neighboring kingdom before, although he had seen her many times. And the always-smiling, cheerful face of that innocent girl was now set into a grim and determined frown as she set about her work. It was a most unexpected sight, in comparison of the state he expected to find her in.

She was quite obviously paying her respects and thanks to a group of men who had fought for her kingdom and for her father - a last tribute to their efforts, even though they were in vain. Curious, indeed.

But, nonetheless, he had a job to do. And he was now more determined to see it through before the other soldiers could do to her what she was trying to rectify done to the fallen men she doted on so dutifully. The least he could do after this was find a place to hide or bury her form. She deserved that much for the display of strength and honor she was showing here - had she not been female, she would have made a fine knight.

With that thought in mind, he languidly approach her, making no attempts to hide or shield himself from her view in any manner. She likely knew that she would be spotted in the open like this.

And after a moment, she did look up, just as she was rising from the care she had given to the dead soldier at the end of her make-shift line. The emotion in her eyes as she met his gaze was unreadable.

"Don't bother running," the dark-armored knight stated simply. "You won't make it far."

"I wasn't planning to run." Her azure eyes narrowed as her hands, bloodied by the treatment to fallen soldiers, clenched into little fists at her side. "But I won't stand for you and your men desecrating these bodies any further!"

His forward march ceased, one large, dark eyebrow arching almost questioningly. With his lack of worded response, she furiously gestured around what had priorly been a gorgeous garden and clearing, now littered with bodies, many of which had their own weapons sticking out of their guts like twisted grave markers. "Does this make you proud? Do you all feel victorious now that your bloodshed has ruthlessly engulfed a kingdom that has not once raised a hand against you? Must you all ridicule these brave soldiers with their own weapons?"

He watched her avidly, silently, her hair flaring up like its own orange fire of defiance as she shouted at him. The remnants of the white feather headdress hanging on her long locks puffed out like an angry bird.

"Answer me!" she demanded heatedly.

All the knight did, however, was draw his weapon. But instead of looking fearful at the gesture, the tattered princess merely stepped to the side, retrieving a long sword from within the pile of weapons she had procured from the bodies.

"You're going to fight me?" he inquired, almost amused--almost intrigued. Such a slip of a girl with such a pampered upbringing, laying her hands on a real weapon and openly challenging a knight of his standing? It was almost laughable. Or at least, it should have been - but the knight in question was not like his comrades.

This act of bravery was something he could respect.

"I will," she finally said as she raised the sword and took a wobbly stance. It was quite clear that she knew nothing about fighting, but that did not appear to hinder her intent. "My father didn't surrender and beg for his life like a coward, and neither will I!"

To her surprise, he lowered his own weapon - and due to the expression that crossed her features, it was plain to see that she was insulted by the action. "Don't take me lightly!" She forced the blade up higher in some attempt to look intimidating - which rather didn't work for her, as the sword itself was at least two-thirds as tall as she was.

He merely stared back at her, with green eyes that seemed to be trying to bore right through her. Hand still on the blade that was now at his side, he took a step closer to the princess. "I have no intention of dishonoring your men or you," he said. "Whether you believe it or not, I have not unjustly desecrated even a single of your dead. Other knights I have fought alongside, however, apparently have lost the meaning behind the word 'honor'."

She steadily glared back at him, swallowing as she took in his words. Why had he not struck yet? Why was he telling her such things? Was it merely a way to get her to drop her guard and then mock her for believing such statements?

"You don't appear convinced," he shrugged. "But that's not my concern. I'm not here to prove anything to you. However, your efforts are at least deserving of respect. You have done your men a great service that many would not - especially not one of your standing."

The redheaded princess cracked a tiny, rueful smile, the blade quivering in her faltering grip. "Few wish to be born into cage. Even if it's lined with gold and jewels and riches most men can only dream of. Should I lose my humanity and my ability to feel compassion and gratitude, I would truly have lost everything worth having."

Such words were powerful, certainly. Especially to be spoken from one he had assumed up until this dusk-lit meeting on a bloodstained war zone, was nothing more than a spoiled child living blissfully in luxury.

"Then I'm sure you realize why we have done what we've done," he supplied lightly, stopping a mere five or so feet from the girl.

"No," she bit out scathingly. "I do not. Useless bloodshed! Manslaughter!"

"To us, it is freedom," he spoke softly. "It is independence. It is our dreams of taking back what is rightfully ours. Can you understand that?"

She grit her teeth, silence weighing down on her with the passing seconds. Was there something amidst this that she missed? Father was honest, wasn't he? Would he really aim to rule over a kingdom stolen from the foundation of another? Would he cast them out?

...And why, _why_ was this nameless knight - the clear enemy, covered in the bloodstains of the people she loved and grew up with - making her doubt?

Stiffly, she shook her head, but there was not a lot of confidence in the gesture. "You could have spoken to my father about it. He would have listened! I know he would! Had you just explained your--"

"Enough," the knight cut her off, sporting a frown. "You know not what you speak of. You know not the lengths we have gone for naught. Now accept your defeat gracefully. You have showed your men honor, now show me that you still have some left."

Her head lowered, in what at first glance appeared to be a demure resignation in compliance. However, her fisted hold around the hilt of the sword shook almost ominously. And then she raised her features - rage clear visibly in the stormy sea of her blue eyes. "How--How dare you!" she seethed, raising the blade higher despite her shaking grip. "I owe you nothing! I have done nothing! And I will not accept defeat from a bunch of COWARDS who attack a sleeping kingdom at dawn!"

The young knight, who had up to this point shown very little in the way of expression, sneered back at the princess, green eyes burning with an inner fire. "I may be many unpleasant things, but I am _not a __**coward**_!"

Accompanying his harsh outburst, his blade abruptly lashed out, knocking the girl's sword away like it was nothing more than a piece of wood. She blinked owlishly back at him, hands still outstretched, though she was grasping nothing but air. And she soon found the tip of his blade planted at her throat.

"Don't even _pretend_ to understand things you do not," he spoke in a low, careful voice that held barely-concealed anger. "Or make ridiculous claims about my integrity or honor. I have fought for what I believe in - against this fate your kingdom had thrown upon me and my brethren!

"I respect you for what you have shown here," he continued after he had taken a moment to calm himself. "Though I do not make any such claims to know you or anything about you. I merely ask for that same respect."

The princess raised one blood-crusted hand and silently pushed his sword blade away from her neck, causing his eyebrows to raise. Even without a weapon, she did not cower and back down. As a matter of fact, she still looked angry. What a strange woman this was.

"Respect is earned," she informed him, defiant eyes meeting his once again. "And I do not respect you for what you have shown and spoken here. You cannot _force_ me to respect and bow down to what I view as an unjust cause, no matter how strongly you believe in it."

The knight almost ran her through with his blade just then. His pride - she had taken a definite swing with an invisible, sharp blade, and stuck it right into him. Even when he had set out to make sure she was not used in the last moments of her life and dismembered like a pretty rag-doll! How impertinent! How infuriating! How...

Attractive. Compelling. Brave. Intriguing.

She was defying a fate that he was meant to carry out. She was defying it with everything that she had, even when the odds were impossible - laughable. Dirtied and reeking of the dead and of blood from countless soldiers on her dress, hands, and face, she did not back down. Or give in to the inevitable.

There was a fire - a passion in her eyes. It spoke of life and sparked of great will. Without even a word, she was voicing how she would not give up - how she would fight for everything she believed in, just as he believed he had. And the knight respected that, as well. It swelled within him - so much, that he suddenly felt unsure of himself.

And that seemed to be the opening the young woman was waiting for. The moment he appeared distracted, she knocked the blade away from him, his sword thumping uselessly to the ground as she roared with a sound unfitting for a princess and dived upon him, shoving him forcefully backward with all of her meager weight. Her bare hands beat his armored breastplate, uncaring of how useless the blows fell upon him as she snarled like a wild animal fighting for its life.

Naturally, it did not hurt at all. But the young knight found himself spellbound by such fierce, aggressive actions. Dimly he wondered what could have driven the princess this far. Was she insulted? Was her pride injured? Was she trying in some way to avenge the dead of all of her people? Might she just be short-tempered?

And most importantly, why did he care enough to even think of such things?

With her death, their victory would be complete and set in stone. No survivors would remain - and especially not those directly of the crown.

So _why_, as she attacked him with her bare hands and feet relentlessly, did he consider abandoning his duty to end her life? Ludicrous. The others would call him weak. Sentimental. He might even lose his rank. And then they would surely track her down and do horrible, unsightly things to the girl before they--

"FIGHT _BACK_, YOU---!"

Just as she came at his face with a fist, he reacted on trained impulse - his body half-turned and one hand stopped hers just inches from his jawbone, and the elbow on the opposite arm pulled back and then jutted forward to connect with her middle.

The princess's blue eyes broadened on a gasp at the impact, and then fluttered closed as she fell limp against the knight.

"Stubborn little thing," he muttered, grasping her shoulders and lowering her to the ground.

That would temporarily shut her up, at least, he thought. And now ending her life would be simple and quick, while she was not able to lift a single finger in protest any longer.

This was preferable. ...Wasn't it?

Dammit, he should not be second-guessing himself! Alarmed and aggravated with his sudden wavering, the dark green-haired knight knelt to snatch up his fallen blade and immediately set its point over the girl's chest - directly over her heart. All he had to do was press down quickly and it would be done.

Yet he stood there in unmoving silence, watching his sword rise and fall with the gentle breathing of her unconscious form. The top of her dress was frayed, and the steel point of the weapon rested just between a tear in its faded golden folds.

_Plunge the blade_, he urged himself.

...And yet he did not - _could_ not.

Despite having been engaged in a bloody, seemingly endless train of battles and fights all day long, he only felt that taking this life in particular, was a sin. And that she would become blood he would see on his hands for eternity.

It was madness. These thoughts, these crazy, doubt-filled and weak-minded things invading his mind were not acceptable! War was necessary bloodshed! And destroying the last of the monarchy would mean he and his comrades could finally put these ill feelings to rest! She was just a useless princess of a fallen kingdom! Even if she fought valiantly and showed him another side to the royalty he did not know, even if she held honor many men on his side could not hold a candle to, even if she had a fire he had never before witnessed in another human being----_she had to die_!

And yet his blade betrayed him. And yet he could not do something so simple - something needed to properly end the strive for the independence and freedom he fought so hard to obtain.

His hand gave a great jolt and the sword slipped from his fingers, falling off to the side and impacting the earth with a dull flop.

Not for the first time in life, Fakir felt like a failure.

And what to do with her now, he did not know. If he left her, they would surely find her sooner or later. She was too stupid and headstrong to hide - as she had already clearly demonstrated. She would probably even try to fight them, just like she had with him - only they would use such a brave act to mock and humiliate her.

Princess of the swan kingdom or not, she did not deserve such a disgrace to her final moments.

Perhaps... perhaps there _was_ something he could do.

Eyes becoming alight with a new determination, the knight retrieved his sword and sheathed it in one smooth movement, casting a single glance at the peaceful, bloodied redhead before he turned on heel and walked away.

--------------------------

The merriment of victory that had continued in his absence came to a jarring halt when the young knight strode back toward the group of his fellow soldiers. The chief knight stood, meeting his gaze expectantly. All eyes were on him now.

"She's dead," he announced with a cool finality and a confidence that left no room for doubt.

He thought he saw the luster in the middle-aged knight's eyes soften just before there was a resounding rumble of displeasure and disappointment from the other men. The stoic young knight tried to ignore their horrid comments, keeping his stern green gaze on his superior.

And the elder knight tilted his head to the side slightly, wordlessly questioning why the young man still appeared so tense. The young knight called Fakir did not leave him waiting long. "I wish to speak with you for a moment," he bowed his head forward politely with the request. "Privately."

"Of course," came the gruff reply, a note of curiosity seeping into the older man's eyes as he followed the young knight to a secluded corner.

Once safely out of earshot of the others, the lower-ranked of the two leaned forward slightly, expression serious. "I have a request."

The chief knight took a deep breath, letting it leak out through his nose. "And I daresay, you of all, have certainly earned it. What is it that you wish?"

"I want to take the body and bury it somewhere away from here, where those vultures won't terrorize it any further. After that, I request to return back to the castle and rest."

There was a prolonged silence hanging in the air before the elder man clapped a hand against the knight's armored shoulder. "You are an honorable knight, Fakir. Even when it comes to dealing with those who embody everything you fight against and despise, you do not seek to do them unnecessary torture or mock their deaths. Your parents would have been proud."

The young man felt a stab of guilt at those words, knowing full well that he was outright lying to the man before him - a man he admired and looked up to almost like a father figure. Swallowing indiscreetly, he gave a stiff nod.

"I grant your request in full," the grand knight assured him, glancing over his shoulder at the jeering of the other men who clashing mugs of fresh beer. "Go, quickly. While they are still consumed in their foolish drunkenness."

The young man made to move, but abruptly hesitated. Noting that, his superior sighed.

"I'm sure the little lady is grateful to you." Fakir nearly released a snort at that, but swiftly prevented the noise from escaping. "Hers was an unfortunate death, but a needed sacrifice for our cause. You do both her and her father a great service by respecting her in death. Now hurry, my boy."

And with a light shove, the dark-haired knight felt his numbed body fall into motion, and stumbled away, his mind in a hazy mess. Lies had just spread from his mouth and guilt clawed through his heavy armor, tearing at his skin.

_A needed sacrifice_. And he had failed.

_But_, his mind suddenly challenged out of nowhere, _is she really? How does the end of her life pull the final curtain down? She is not a princess anymore. Her kingdom is gone. Her family is gone. Is blood really the important factor...? Does it really determine one's worth in life?_

And he continued to wonder...

-----------------

Thankfully, he found the girl's body untouched and right where he had left it. Like the others she had laid nearby with her own hands, the princess appeared to be settled in eternal rest - aside from the fact that she was the only one amongst this field of the dead that was actually alive.

Now, he needed means to move her...

Well, that was easy enough. Poising two fingers together, he lifted them to his lips, blowing between them into a thin crack - and creating a shrill sound like a whistle. And no less than a minute later, a chestnut colored horse galloped toward him, its golden mane flowing out behind it. He greeted the animal with a pat on its long face and stroked the area just behind its ear, earning a whinny of approval.

"I know you're not used to carrying any more than me," he voiced, as though the horse could understand what he was saying. "But you're going to have a little heavier of a load this time." The look his horse gave him was almost reproachful, and he rolled his eyes. "Hey, it's not a far journey. So just bear it for now, all right?"

The animal snorted and he whirled away from it, returning to the redhead's comatose form and picking her up bridal style.

"Lying to the grand knight that I've looked up to all my damn life in order to protect _you_," he growled out, hefting the princess up onto the back his horse like a sack of potatoes. "You have no idea just how much trouble you're causing, you infuriating girl."

And he still did not know why he was going to such lengths to secure a life he was meant to end, either. As much as he wanted to blame her, the true holder of that blame was none other than himself.

Fakir sighed in growing annoyance, hopping up onto the horse's back, right in front of the princess draped behind him. He noticed that her skirts had ridden up from when he rather carelessly shoved her up onto the animal, and quickly tore his gaze away from the milky skin of her thighs as he hastened to cover her more completely. With her modesty now secured, he gave the young woman a once over and then settled himself into the saddle more comfortably, turning his attention forward.

At least if anyone from above should spot him and his 'cargo', she at least _looked_ dead in that position, he assured himself.

With that, he took the reigns of his horse and snapped them down, sending the beast into a quick trot across the battlegrounds and off into the darkness, guided by nothing more than the thin streams of moonlight shining through the clouds above.

The first part of his plan had been successful.

However, it was the _rest_ of it that he was truly worried about. Most especially, the need for the princess's cooperation.

-----------------

Fakir's quarters, at first glance, were not unlike a dungeon. They laid deep in the bowels of the castle, windowless and devoid of much more than the necessities and a large stone wall erected on each side to box it in. The only thing that gave the enclosure even a mildly inviting appearance was the soft flickering of lit candles, which supplied the interior of the room with a dim glow and a slight warmth.

The knight entered his room with the princess still out cold in his arms, and shut the heavy wooden door behind him before he approached his bed and deposited her on the black wool covering. She still did not stir. Apparently he had not lost his touch for knocking out opponents with one blow of his arm, even if his sword had been the tool he relied on throughout the day of bloodshed.

However, Princess Tutu still greatly confused and intrigued him. And it might have been on that very whim of curiosity that he spared her life, or it might have been connected to something much deeper, but for now, he did not care to dwell on it. Once she awakened (which would hopefully be soon, and before those oafs returned to the castle), he had an important procedure to relay to her - one that would ensure her escape to a place she could start anew. But until the next dawn came, he unfortunately had to keep her here. It would have proved too odd, especially to the chief knight, if he were to disappear after such a long and gruesome battle. And he could not chance being caught with the princess in his care - much less anyone, even a simple servant, discovering that she was quite alive after he openly announced her death.

So troublesome. So irritating.

Exhaling through his nose, the young dark-haired knight set himself down on the bed beside her, idly watching her seemingly-sleeping form. It was strange, he thought, that although this castle had plenty of women - maidservents, commoners, and even a few wealthy women bustling about in their riches and gowns - none had ever shared his bed. Not even in the way the battered princess was bundled on top of it in unconsciousness.

The young man blinked at that, wondering where the odd thought had arisen from. Such a thing didn't hold a lick of importance. Hell, his thoughts had almost always been focused on his training, his knightly duties, and of course, his quest for freedom. Nothing reached beyond that.

Not until this girl - this princess without a crown and whose home and family he had assisted in massacring right before her eyes - slipped by his carefully-constructed barriers and infested his mind and life. Without even intending to.

How could she manage to achieve something he did not even consider possible in the first place...?

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Fakir reached out to brush a stray lock of flaming red hair aside from her pale pallor.

And just before his fingers could tuck it aside, her blue eyes snapped open. His hand instantly abandoned its earlier path and retracted at once, but not before those eyes met his and widened.

"You..." she wheezed in obvious shock, struggling to force herself up to a sitting position."Didn't you... why am I..."

The young man brought a hand to his forehead, sighing in aggravation as he briefly closed his eyes. The sooner he told her, the better. "I don't know entirely why, myself, but you're here for now. For the night. And tomorrow morning, I will see you across the border to a distant village. They don't bother with either of the northern castles and they should not question you."

The redheaded girl blinked several times, gradually taking in the information as she stared openly up at his face. "I don't understand..." she finally voiced, eyebrows drawing together. "You did not kill me? And you intend to spare me to the beginnings of a new life?" Her tone was heavily saturated with incredulousness and doubt.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as she released a very un-lady-like noise, almost like a snort. "You... You must be a court jester in disguise," she mused with open mirth. But as quickly as the laughter came, it was gone, and replaced by a very unamused expression. "Do not play games with me, sir knight. What torture have you planned? What fate are you intending to subject me to that is worse than death?"

Fakir scowled back at her, anger crawling into his veins. The lengths he was going for to give her a proper chance at life - the life she so obviously radiated - and she refused to believe him? The _nerve_ of this girl! "It's not a goddamn joke," he near-spat.

But then he held his tongue from anything further. Nothing rational at all had led him to this point. And she did not care if he had any honor - the stubborn girl refused him any respect, regardless.

For a long moment, she studied him, leaning close as she looked right straight into his eyes - as if searching for something. And he did not flinch or turn away, but instead held that gaze as if bound to by some unseen magic. And after what seemed like forever, she finally pulled back, and flared her nostrils in what appeared to be annoyance, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"How is it that a black-crested one such as yourself, stained with the blood of my blood, can have honest eyes? I can't _stand_ it."

His eyebrows raised up over a puzzled pair of green eyes. Was she... indirectly saying that she now believed him?

"I don't like this at all," she continued on a huff as she petulantly crossed her arms. "There's something strange about you. You're the kind of man that father warned me about."

"Is that so?" he couldn't keep the amusement from seeping into his voice.

"Yes," she answered instantly, lurching up to her feet. "A stranger - a dark-clad knight of the enemy kingdom that ruthlessly attacked us, and yet you presume you can tell me what to do with the life that you have so _graciously _given back to me?"

Fakir's eyebrows raised even higher. It was impossible to miss the sarcasm and this girl really only continued to surprise him. A princess, acting independent? They were practically set to be the definition of dependency and obedience to the higher man. And this girl emanated with rebellion against everything that he thought he knew to be truth.

Though as much as he wanted to push those buttons of hers a little more and learn other things about her, the knight reminded himself that the kidnapped ex-princess had little time to prepare. Night had already fallen and time was running short. Rising up from his bed, the young man wordlessly made his way over to the small wardrobe on the other side of the room and pulled out a fresh wool towel, cloth, and a robe. Then he turned around and all but threw them at the stunned princess.

"Go," he instructed, pointing to the door. "Two doors down from here on the right. There is a room in which you can wash up. The maidservants have been instructed to leave my corridors alone for this night, so you should not encounter any unfortunate happenings. Now, hurry."

For a long moment, she just stared back at him with that same expression, and then she snapped out of it, jumping to her feet and stamping her foot. "And just what makes you think you can tell me what to--"

"GO," he pressed with a snarl. "Unless you want to stay in those tattered remains of a dress and reeking of blood and sweat, I suggest you take this opportunity while you _can_, Your _Majesty_." He stressed the title with thin-lipped mockery. "And before the rest of the knights and soldiers return. Lest you DO have a death wish."

Her mouth opened, as if to further argue, but then shut. And she threw a nasty glare in his direction before she pulled the wooden door ajar and stomped down the hall in a very un-princess-like way.

When she was out of sight and earshot, the young knight slumped against the wall, fiddling with the binds of his heavy metal armor.

What an ungrateful, stubborn wench. Dealing with her was like pulling shards of a stained glass window from one's own skin - while the pattern was interesting and left you wanting to piece it together fully to appreciate it, ripping out each slab was agonizing and left a heated, searing trail behind. And who knew just how many pieces this venomous girl harbored in her 'portrait'.

Lifting away from his slouched position, Fakir began taking his armor off piece by piece, letting each chunk of dark steel and chainmail fall to the stone floor with an audible clatter. Truth be told, he did not feel as exhausted as he thought he should after such a day. And perhaps that was due to bubbling aggravation with the princess. Whatever the case, he felt restless.

Freed from the overwhelming confines of the protective wear, the young man exited his room and went the opposite direction of the sound of running water. ascending the stairway on the left. The remaining soldiers might come home at any time, but he found it worth the risk in order to erase the stench of battle and blood from his skin. Even if he could not clean away everything with soap and water alone, perhaps the hot liquid would at least relax his tense muscles a little.

------------------

Feeling freshened, but unfortunately no less wound up after his bathing, Fakir returned to his room, dressed in nothing more than a loose black shirt and shorts with a towel draped around his shoulders. Upon opening the wooden door, he paused, assaulted with a rather strange, but pleasant smell - flowery, laden with something exotic and a hint of fruit. And as his growing deduction soon confirmed, the princess was inside, sitting on his bed and staring at a candle on the desk beside her.

She appeared lost in thought, entranced by the flame, and for a long moment he merely stood and stared, equally as entangled in a silent contemplation of her robed form and intoxicated by her scent. The feather headdress was now completely gone from its perch, and locks of her damp red hair cascaded down on all sides of her, pooling together on the bed - all except one thick and stubborn lock that protruded from the top of her head, defiantly sticking straight up. He mused that the hair must have been caught up in her headdress before now - since that object as well, was missing. And the borrowed robe, clearly not meant for a woman, bared a hint of the swell of her breasts, as well as one creamy leg extending from the two folds that met in the center.

Fakir was not sure just how many times his eyes roved and appraised her feminine form, or why viewing her this way incited a warmth in him he was not at all familiar with. Yet again, this girl was unearthing things in him that he could not fully control or understand. What, by the seven demons of Hell, was she _doing_ to him? Could she possibly have dabbled in witchcraft?

"I was wondering where you went."

He abruptly snapped out of his trance when her eyes fell upon him and he stiffly cleared his throat, turning away from her blue gaze and swiftly shutting the door behind him. "You're not the only one who smelled like war and death," he supplied shortly.

Just the mention of those words seemed to make her azure eyes grow distant and cloudy. After a brief pause, she parted her lips to speak again. "I've been thinking..."

"Hn?" he side-glanced toward her again to show that he was listening.

"I don't wish to go to that village," she said, hands twisting in the front of the robe. "But I will accept your offer of escort. There is a forest near there with a beautiful lake. I always wanted to visit it, but I was not allowed. I think there... there I will make my new home."

He fully swerved back around to face her, green eyes incredulous. "You want to live _away_ from the comfort of a warm and safe shelter and without people?"

The princess stuck her nose in the air. "I believe I have had my fill of living in society and pretending to be something I'm not. And I get along better with animals, anyway."

"Strange girl," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head lightly in disbelief.

She flushed slightly, crossing her arms under her meager bust and indirectly pushing it higher. "I don't know what it is that you're mumbling over there, but I'm certain that it's nothing good." She sniffed indignantly. "So, Sir knight, do you accept my request?"

Fakir shrugged, working out a crick in his neck and wincing when he stretched a sore area. He promptly removed the towel and tossed it onto a chair in the corner. "I suppose a little extra distance won't make a difference," he conceded. "What the hell you decide to do from there on out is on your own shoulders."

The princess, however, didn't seem to be entirely listening, her eyes darting between his face and neck. He dropped his hand from where he was rubbing the taught skin and bundle of nerves. Somehow, that stare of hers was unnerving. "What now?" he ventured. "Have another condition?"

"Your neck," she spoke, gaze glued to that very point. "Does it hurt?"

The knight rolled his eyes. "Stunning observation, Your Highness," he mock bowed. "For a soldier to be sore after fighting a war. Unheard of."

"Cease calling me that!" she demanded snappily, and then pointed a finger down in front of her. "And come and sit here. I know just what to do for that."

He blinked back at her as though she had just morphed into a fire-breathing dragon. "Here you are, held captive behind enemy lines and you're giving _me_ orders?"

"That's right," she nodded with a haughty little smile.

Fine, he thought, wandering over to her and plopping down on the floor with his back to her. He would play her little game and entertain her command. A small smirk curled onto his lips, unseen by the redhead above. "Ripe chance to try to strangle me, Your Highness," he quipped. "You are in the perfect position."

"Tempting," her voice raised slightly in amusement and he could almost feel her smile. Her fingertips brushed his neck and he felt a strange, unbidden chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the fear of being choked. "Especially after I told you to quit mocking me with titles."

Fakir had to swallow twice before he could coax his voice to work again. "You prefer being called Princess Tutu, then?"

"No," she interjected almost before he could finish. Her small hands settled down onto his shoulders, fingertips pressing into the skin. "I despise that name. Father fabricated it for me because he thought it sounded more graceful than the name my mother gave to me before she died."

He was sitting up quite straight now and trying to ignore the tingling sensation that spread from the grip of her soft, feminine hands. "Then what is your real name?"

Her fingers paused, just before they started to move. "...Ahiru."

"Ahiru," he repeated, testing the name on his lips. "Odd name for an odd girl."

"Hmph!" Her hands started to work with fervor, massaging the muscles along the junctures of his neck and shoulders. "And what's yours? Baldwick the Beast? Aurdor the Arrogant?"

"Fakir."

Her motions stopped. "...Really. I didn't expect something so... normal," she admitted slowly. "No strange titles or anything?"

The knight half-snorted. "We're not all a bunch of barbarians, you know. Perhaps your kingdom thought as much, but some of us are plenty civilized." He could not vouch for the lot of them, after all. Shameless bastards.

She didn't reply, but instead began to knead a tight area between his shoulder blades with her thumbs. He inadvertently arched into it, encouraging her ministrations and releasing something almost like a groan. It was impossible to describe how her hands felt against his skin. Was this, perhaps, what the other men called the 'magic of a woman's touch'?

"Father said this is one of the only things I could do right," she mused aloud, hands traveling up and down from the bare base of his neck to the clothed part of his back as her fingers pressured into his rough skin through the barrier. "I started doing it for him when he felt weary after a long day and it became something of a habit," she continued, somehow eased by simply talking as she worked. "It is a task that is more or less to be asked of the servants, of course, but father admitted that I was very good with using my hands this way, and he preferred that I would rub the tension from his shoulders. It was the lone and single compliment that he ever gave to me."

"Then he did not present you with an unworthy one," the young man breathed out, eyes half-closed. "It feels like your touch has a healing magic of its own."

Her fingers paused again, a red blush lighting up her face. Somehow, those words from this knight were stirring - unsettling in some way. "Y-You exaggerate," she stammered hastily, and her rubbing swiftly commenced once more. "Or you're making fun of me. It is nothing more than a simple massage, meant to relax the muscles. Anyone can do it."

"Ahhn..." he moaned out, and her flush intensified.

"Stop making weird noises!" she sputtered, feeling her heartbeat start to pump abnormally fast. Her fingers pulled away, curling in and out with embarrassment.

"Don't stop," he voiced huskily. "Keep going."

She opened her mouth to shout at him for giving her commands, but the words died on her lips. And instead, she timidly returned to caressing and kneading into his skin, languid at first, but gaining momentum.

"Lower," he told her, and leaned forward, starting to pull off his shirt.

"W-W-What are you doing!?" she exclaimed in alarm as his bare back was displayed, her face rapidly rivaling the color of her hair.

"Making it easier for you," he informed her, discarding the coarse material next to him. He reached back to pull his dark ponytail out of the way, and glanced at her from over his shoulder, green eyes expectant - and swimming with something indecipherable. "Ahiru?"

She felt a shudder fly through her body. The way he said her name made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"Continue," he urged.

And she finally complied, carefully leaning in and returning her hands to the warm flesh. Up and down, left and right, in and out, firm circles, wide arcs...

Fakir groaned deep in his throat as she molded the toughened skin of his back, each faded scar that her fingers ran across sending a spark through him. It was truly indescribable - and impossible to explain just how she was affecting his entire body with her tender motions. Heat flooded through him, traveling through his veins and flaring with each press of her fingers. And his groin swelled with something foreign, beginning to make the simple black shorts mildly constraining.

"You've grown quiet," she piped up with a rather fake-sounding cheer. "Is this relaxing you so completely that I am putting you to sleep?"

On the contrary, she could clearly hear his labored breathing and the other low sounds emitting from him. However, she was attempting to convince herself that if she kept talking, she could block it all out... ignore it... and ignore the uneasy warmth that churned in her stomach and burned slowly lower.

His response came with an unexpected lean into her, forcing her to move her hands away from him before he trapped them between his back and the bed. Then his head lolled back almost directly into her lap, hazy darkened green staring up at her. "I need... more..."

Before she could find her voice in order to ask him what he meant, his hands shot up, fisting into her hair on either side and yanking her roughly down with a yelp - before the sound dispersed into nothing as her lips mashed upon his own. The position was odd, with his head facing upside down, but the young knight did not appear to be concerned with such details and kissed the girl hungrily, his fingers tensing in her damp red curls.

This was not what the princess dreamed of her first kiss to be like. Not in the slightest. It felt messy and desperate, hot and almost bruising in needy intensity... and yet, she could not pull away. Not only because his grip was quite demanding, but this knight, this man called Fakir, was awakening something deep inside of her.

Something that ached for _more_, just as he had spoken before the connection was made.

And that connection was then cut. The young man relinquished his hold in her hair and panted against the swollen wetness of her lips, which gave a slight quiver when she whimpered. Provoked by the soft sound, he lifted his head and turned his body around to face her, climbing up and pushing her down to his bed. The new inclination pleased him, a thrum of heat passing through his body as he arched down and recaptured her mouth, sucking her reddened and plump bottom lip.

Ahiru gasped into the lip-lock, fighting with the conflicting urges to pull him closer or push him away. He was setting her on fire with just a kiss, and those flames were hot... so hot... so cloying and overwhelming!

And her scent consumed him, tendrils of the fragrance and of her heat twirling and binding him with their tendrils. His hands clutched her sides through the thick wool of the robe, fingers toying with the sash. Oh, how he wished to touch her skin - to make her feel everything - every pleasurable torture that she inflicted upon him with that massage...

The princess finally seemed to solidify her decision, thin arms rising and curving up behind his neck, meeting his lips back with the building passion that steadily heightened inside of her. Wrong or right, what did it matter any longer? This felt too amazing to be real. And she could not bring herself to cease it from growing and breathlessly anticipating where it would go next.

In the next moment, the tie holding the robe closed was undone, and Fakir impatiently pushed one half aside, resting his palm against the naked flesh of her thigh. A strangled noise muffled into his mouth when his fingers began to tease the open skin, caressing in tentative, slow movements. And she tensed as those strokes gradually became bolder, her nails biting into the skin between his shoulder blades.

"Ahiruuu," he drew out on a winded breath, lips moving to her jaw. That tender, unmarred skin felt just as soft to his calloused touch as he had imagined, and his hand began to move up and down over the upper half of her leg, rubbing the warm flesh fervently.

This was not the pleasure of a woman warming one's bed, he realized. It was the pleasure of _this _woman - this razor-tongued, strong-willed former princess who perplexed him to no end - warming his bed. And she burned his insides to the core, filling him with a want for something he never desired before. He had never felt so unsatisfied and never felt such a deep-rooted ache that reached beyond mere physical sensation.

But he was clearly aroused. And so was she, even if she did not yet recognize it.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knew that this was a terrible, traitorous sin - and dangerous, given their current situation. And that irrationally caused the fire to flash brighter, intensifying the desperation that ransacked through every bone and every nerve in his body.

The hand upon her leg disengaged, his arm extending until his searching fingers found her right breast. With no hesitations to speak of, he grasped the mound with the full grip of his hand, testing its weight and feel. Her chest was not overly large, but the globe fit very nicely into the hold of his hand and its softness pulled a light moan from his throat, making his lips sigh against the skin of her neck.

She, on the other hand, let out a small cry from his attentions upon her breast, clearly unaccustomed to being touched there - or in such a rough manner. And he swiftly pressed his mouth over hers, swallowing the last of the sound before her volume could increase any further. Once certain that she had calmed, he slowly released her mouth and put a finger to her lips.

"Shh," he reprimanded in a husky whisper. "We must not be heard."

Her eyebrows drew together in frustration. How could he expect her to be quiet when he was lighting her body on fire from the inside out and molding parts of her body that a man had never been permitted to touch? She couldn't take it, she couldn't stand it!

"I---Ah...!"

His mouth immediately enveloped hers once more, refusing to let her voice escape into the air. Both of his hands now assaulted her chest on opposite sides, cupping and squeezing and ripening the rosy tips to a hardened state. Her body squirmed beneath him, noises trying to climb out of her throat but lost somewhere in the heated seal of their mouths. Feeling far too restrained, she tried a counterattack of her own, her hands planting onto his firm chest and fingers raking up and down over the contours of his muscles.

He retaliated almost instantly, masking an oncoming moan by thrusting his tongue past her lips and right into the unexplored orifice of her mouth. And to his surprise - and subsequent delight - her tongue rose to the challenge and battled back against his as she continued her onslaught on his skin, fingernails tracing one long scar from the top of his shoulder to his navel.

How naive he had been to think this princess was one of those demure and perfect little portraits of innocence. Everything that he unveiled about her since their first meeting on the battlefield of the fallen swan kingdom stunned him. And now those attributes he had found so alluring were translating to an immense focus of passion that clashed between them.

Fakir was commonly stoic, cool, and collected, completely focused on his duties as a knight and his desire for the gates he felt trapped in to open. Nothing had shaken him so much and no one had dared cross into his personal space like this girl. And instead of stopping her in her tracks with a cold, unfeeling glare - such measures only further provoked her to overcome any obstacles in her way.

Courageous, stubborn, incredibly vivacious, and damn, she was kissing him like she was possessed by a frisky, wanton devil. There really was no turning back for the knight at this point. He did not know who would eventually surrender - or if one of them would hand the reigns over at all - but he was determined to experience this young woman in every possible way.

Even if time was horribly short.

With that thought in mind, he doubled his efforts. The hands at her chest alternated directions - descending and ascending, mapping out every inch of her silky smooth skin they encountered. One set of fingers ran over the length of her collarbone, rolling into the groove of taught skin created by the strong structure, while the other rubbed down to her abdomen, fingering her navel and pressing the flat of his palm to the flat of her stomach that expanded with every jerking breath she attempted to take between their busy mouths.

He wanted to know, he wanted to remember... he wanted this night to remain engraved upon his memory forever.

The princess rashly broke her mouth away from his, throwing her head back on a mewling cry from his ministrations that refused to be contained. Her fingers tensed and constricted into his frame, scraping over his chest and stomach and drifting lower. And this time, Fakir made no move to attempt to silence her - that sound alone pulsed a thick warmth through him, collecting at his center that pushed against its unwelcome restraints.

It was nothing like the cry of a dying or suffering woman, which he had heard numerous times throughout the day, but a cry of _life_ - filled to the brim with urgency - a cry for _him_.

And even the potentially lurking threat of imminent danger could not force him to stop it, foolish as it was.

Ahiru bucked her hips up between them on a gasp when his fingers lightly brushed a sensitive area nearing the connection of her legs, tossing her head forward to latch onto his neck and suck harshly on the spot where his pulse was strong and beating. For a brief moment, he simply arched up on shaky limbs, taking her with him, and then pressed her roughly back down, grinding his only remaining clothed area diagonally across her wetness.

Sensing her advantage and enjoying his reactions, her teeth joined the play upon the skin of his neck, clamping a section between the top and bottom and suckling the skin trapped between. His upper body shuddered and she grinned, tongue darting out to pay heed to the reddened skin before starting a trail of saliva further downward.

He rubbed his erection against her leg, a rumble like a growl erupting from within him - to the point that she could almost _feel_ the noise rise through him with her attentions on his neck and collarbone. And both of her hands abandoned their former path, opting instead to wrap around behind him and clutch his firm rear in her grip, indirectly pushing his hardness into her thigh.

She could feel it and she knew where she needed it... where she _had_ to have it. He was big, but he would fit. And her lower body was just aching for that realization to become reality.

Fakir allowed the friction to continue awhile longer, pushing his hips against her over and over and panting in spurted gasps. Her tongue persisted in slickening the area below his neck, tasting him and savoring his flavor with every brush of the appendage. In some blind attempt to fight back, his hands found her breasts and twisted the swollen nubs, pulling a startled squeak from her that dislodged her mouth from his front. And he seized the opening before she could close it, ducking his head down closing his mouth over one erect bud on her chest. She stifled a screech and gripped his backside with ruthless fingers, her body contorting as he nipped the small protrusion caught in the hot cavern between his lips and tongue.

Surely her father and her friends and the soldiers and everyone that died in the war would say this brought shame upon her entire family and name. Consorting so intimately with a man who was the enemy, showing not a shred of dignity for her former standing... she would have been punished terribly for such treacherous behavior.

But she had long since thrown away that role. She was not Princess Tutu. She was not a bird locked in that pretty cage any longer. She didn't have to be something she wasn't. And she was finally allowed to live a life of her own choices - choices she would not be ashamed of, no matter what others might think of them. It was freedom and she was experiencing it together with this knight, Fakir - reveling in the pleasures that even inexperience could create between them. Attraction and lust played their wild part, but there was something more - something that almost felt like a magnetism of magic that drew them together.

And she let it bind her - consume her completely. If just for this one night...

The male of the two was quickly growing annoyed with the interference of the bathrobe, and pulled away from the princess long enough to tug her arms free of the material and let it fall like a backdrop underneath of them, cushioning her now completely naked body.

Fakir sucked in a sharp breath and openly stared, letting his gaze drink in her appearance with the shadows flickering and dancing over her skin from the light of the candles behind them. He had never seen a woman's naked form before - not this entirely. And it made his cheeks flush with a strange embarrassment that crawled up within the fires of the raging lust. She had shapely curves and a well proportioned body for her shorter stature, a bit on the thin side, but with enough to fill her out in the right places. And her core area that hid her womanly flower glistened in the dim light. He swallowed, his mouth dropping open to gape. The urgency and desperation before now had plowed him blindly forward by instinct and want alone, and prevented him from taking everything in.

Blue eyes blinked back at him in confusion, a blush rising to her face as well. And her hands promptly crossed over her open flesh. "H-Hey, don't stare like that! Does it--do I look that... bad?" Her voice grew smaller and something in her heart sank at the thought. She knew she wasn't as pretty as princesses were supposed to be. And she was under-developed for her age... The maidservants Pique and Lilie had teased her about it all the time. But...

A trickle of perspiration fell in a curve down from the side of his face, his green eyes widening. "No, I... You're not--I've just never..."

Her mouth fell open, expression clearly displaying shock. "Really? You haven't done... this before?" Wow. And she had thought with the rush that certainly he knew exactly what he was doing. "And...you've never seen...?"

The young knight glanced away, his blush intensifying drastically. For a man, it was probably laughable. But no such woman had caught his eye or interest before. Not until _her_. "I... have not." he supplied rather lamely.

She reached up and tugged the ends of his black shorts. "I've never seen a naked man, either. Show me...?" Her words finished on what only could be described as a purr, her half-lidded gaze imploring him to grant her wish.

Fakir took a deep breath. Naturally, this girl wanted to be on the same level - she wanted to play fair and have her say. And besides, he _had _taken quite a long look at her. He released the breath on a sigh and reached for the band of his simple cotton shorts, pulling the cloth down and letting his length bob free. A hiss passed through his grit teeth when the cool air licked him, and he felt the need and frantic desire pound through his veins anew.

The clock was ticking and waiting seemed to be steadily becoming more and more difficult.

When Ahiru reached out to touch him, the knight stopped her with one hand. "There isn't--time," he stated, unsure of if he was referring to the night that rapidly waned or of his own impatience to be inside of her.

Although her lips formed a tiny pout, the princess relented. However, instead of pulling her hand away from his, she guided it down, and set his fingers against the small bunch of curls that protected and framed her center from above, allowing him to feel her entrance, which was slick and hot with anticipation. Her free hand ran along the side of his face, brushing back one stubborn lock of his dark bangs.

"Here," she pleaded as she pressed his palm flushly to her wet heat. And for a brief second, he caught a glimpse of the demure maiden beneath the wild mare. That alone made his erection pulse with renewed desperation. He wanted to see that face again, while she cried out his name...

Lifting her up slightly, he settled himself down between her legs and then lowered her, one hand gripping her hip and the other fisting into the bedsheets beside them.

"Pure, are you not?" he panted out, staring down at her with lust-ridden green eyes. It was excruciatingly difficult not to recklessly thrust his length into that dripping warmth without warning.

She gave an almost undetectable nod, but there was no fear or regret shining in her blue irises. In all truth, she looked ready, willing, and accepting.

"Then let me take you," the knight rasped into her ear fiercely, his lips falling to brush her jawline and then kiss the corner of her mouth. "Let me have you..."

"Fill me!" she near-cried in earnest need as she clutched around his back. "_Fakir_!"

Unlike his hesitations to plunge a blade into her heart, he impaled her velvet passage with one swift stroke, claiming her, breaking her final barrier, and sheathing himself inside of her as far as he could possibly drive in. The pleasure was instantaneous - but he did not miss her gasp of pain. In effort to console her, he stilled himself from the urge to move and gently rubbed the skin of her shoulder. It was a mark of chivalry from the knight - awaiting the princess's word before he continued.

She whimpered, tears prickling her eyes as she clung to him for dear life, shifting back and forth restlessly in hopes of relieving the sharp pain that attacked her senses. It hurt. It _hurt_! But she was strong - she wouldn't cry and she would be patient. It would pass. Already, it was beginning to dim...

And it's dulled throb quickly died and gave way to unfathomable pleasure. "Oh!" she gasped out in a winded breath as the flood came in and doused her, making the pain a distant memory. "Please!"

No sooner had that plea broken the tense air before he answered, drawing out to his tip and sliding back in with a rough groan. She quaked from the sensations and reached her legs up to clamp around him, pulling him in deeper. The pace continued rather languidly at first as the both of them adjusted to one another, but slowly built more speed, their hips rocking back and forth.

The candles around the room flickered with an invisible wind - and when the bed hit the nightstand, one of those candles toppled right to the stone floor and went out, dimming the meager light of the room even further. But the two were far too engrossed in one another to care, their moans and throaty cries saturating the air of the underground room.

Passion grew taught and strained as the knight thrust his manhood into her even harder, his teeth and eyes clenched and both hands gripping her sides. Something fit to burst was filling up quickly and begged the rhythm to quicken. He did nothing but comply with that unspoken need, even without knowing just what would be waiting at the peak.

Ahiru impatiently lifted herself up from the bed, trying to sit up and settle herself more directly against him and kissing his lips with enthusiasm. He accommodated the new position awkwardly, but soon picked up the fallen pace, and felt her breasts bounce between them, brushing his chest with every pumping stroke. He lowered his hands to fit around her plush rear and guide her lower body over his shaft to keep up with him, penetrating into her exquisite heat again and again.

Words could not properly describe the sensations that racked through their bodies simultaneously and endlessly, ripping through them to the core with something so amazing that it was difficult to believe that such a thing could possibly be real and attainable. Or that they could have waited so long for it.

But the wait was worth it, to find the right person - the right fit. One that existed on so much more than a strictly physical level. Titles and roles were all worthless. They meant nothing to a connection like this. Perhaps tomorrow upon daybreak, they would have to resume those roles and take up those titles once more. However, for now, they could be as wild and free as they wished.

Her lubricated entrance allowed the speed to pick up even more, their pants of exertion growing shorter and heartbeats crashing against their ribcages as the movement started to spiral out of control. He pumped faster and faster, impaling her on his pulsing erection with reckless abandon as the fire of their actions scorched everywhere and drenched him in sweat. Erratic breaths and fumbling limbs were all that could be heard in the near-darkness - until that blessed crest of pleasure was at last reached. Their arms wrapped around each other, hanging on for all they were worth as those incredible waves crashed down.

Fakir barely arrived there first, white exploding into his vision when her inner walls clutched his length so tightly that he thought he might pass out. "A---HIRU!" his voice boomed aloud as he was completely drowned in blinding heat. It was pure euphoria, pulling him far out of his bedroom - out of the castle and high into the clouds. And she followed that trip into ecstasy not but a moment later, triggered by the hot flood of his release deep within. Her own cry carried his name and she buried her face into his damp shoulder, clamping around him like a vice. It all felt so strange and new and overwhelming and powerful - and its magic tore her away from existence and being altogether, sending her to a brand new world.

And entwined together, they rode the orgasms out to their end, clinging and quivering in each other's grasp.

Gradually, their grips began to slacken and the shaking arms and legs quelled their movement. Their mixed essences were spilled from the connection point onto their legs and bed, but neither had noticed or cared. Deep, ragged breaths puffed out from the exhausted knight and princess, damp hair sticking to their skin and glassy eyes struggling to focus again.

Even once their breathing began to even out and slow, neither one seemed to wish to break the silence. Instead, Fakir pulled back met the redhead's gaze, lifting a hand to part her bangs. Then he leaned in and placed one chaste press of his lips to hers, full of a sweetness that the urgency of their intercourse did not harbor.

And he was rewarded with a true smile that reached all the way to the deepest blue depths of Ahiru's eyes.

"Until the dawn when we must part..." she spoke in a tired, but firm tone. "Do not leave my side."

"You have my word," he assured her, finally pulling out of her folds with a small moan. And then he laid them down upon his small bed, pulling the wool of the blanket that had been shoved off to the side and draping it across their spent, naked bodies.

Knight and princess - man and woman - curled around each other, determined to hold on to this fleeting dream as long as they could.

For when daybreak came, the dream would shatter.

--------------------------

Two forms facing one another and nestled into the sheets of a bed shifted with the breaking of dawn and sunlight shining through the window to spill out over the bed. The girl with red hair in disarray across the pillows awoke first, thick eyelashes fluttering open and revealing sleepy blue eyes. And those eyes settled on the lightly-breathing form beside her.

"Fakir..." she spoke quietly, tracing two fingers along the curve of his face.

The young man's eyebrows drew together over his still-closed eyelids, and a muffled groan reverberated from his throat as he reached up to bat the hand away.

"Fakiiiiir," she whined, and this time leaned forward to press her lips to the tip of his nose.

That seemed to finally pull him out of his slumber, his green eyes snapping open right upon contact of her light brush of skin. "What is it?" he grumbled sleepily.

"It's morning," she supplied with a broad smile.

He growled with annoyance, mumbling something that distinctly sounded like 'moron' and she giggled.

"Aren't you excited to know what I thought about it?" she pressed, now running one hand along his arm.

"Later," came his gruff reply, though he shuddered when her fingertips brushed close to his hip. "'M tired from writing and everything afterward."

"Thank you," she whispered, moving in to claim his lips in a soft kiss. "I think that was the best one yet. Your stories are wonderful."

He arched a brow back at her. "Why are you thanking me? It was _your_ fantasy, not mine."

Ahiru's lips jutted out in a pout. "But you wrote it! You made it real! I gave you one little idea and you came up with...with _that_!"

She blushed, and he couldn't help but crack a smirk. "To think you would have a forbidden kidnapping fantasy," he mused. "Makes me wonder what other weird ideas you have swimming around in that duck brain of yours."

Her face flushed indignantly, a scowl crossing her lips. "I'm not weird! And--and even if I was, you're even WEIRDER!" she declared openly, jutting a finger out against his bare chest beneath the covers.

"Oh?" he frowned, pulling her hand away. "And why is that?"

"Last week, we played out your latest fantasy," she reminded him, her foot nudging up against his calf. "And if I remember right, it was about a high-class rich man and his little affair thing with a--"

"All right, _all right_," he conceded, blushing furiously. "But I still don't think that's as weird as yours."

"Right," she rolled her eyes. "Having a maid to wait on you hand and foot and seducing that maid isn't strange at all. You really do have some weird obsession with bossing me around, don't you? Though I never thought it reached on _that_ kind of level before..."

"Oh, shut up!" he shoved her with one arm as she broke into a laugh. "I never said we had to do any of mine in the first place! You're the one who started all of this!"

She snuggled up against him with a grin. "It's fun, just like teasing you is fun," she assured him. "I still want to experience what you come up with next. I'm really glad that I can be a part of your stories. And, well... if we can't be risk being weird with each other, I guess we can't risk it at all, huh?"

He blinked back at her in surprise, but he understood. She meant their trust. Even when they poked fun at each other, neither truly looked down on the other for any reason. And having fantasies from one's imagination being brought to life was risky when dealing with his power, certainly, but as long as Ahiru was directly involved and her emotions gave him fuel and inspiration to write, Fakir felt confident enough to continue - and to spice up their lives with something secret - just for them. It was special. And truth be told, he didn't want to give that up any more than she did.

"So it's my turn next week, hmm," he muttered, brushing fingers with faded ink-stains through her messy red locks.

She shifted and sighed. "You know... I think you should do a sequel to this one. I know you ended it, but don't you think it was kinda unfinished?"

"A sequel?" Both of his eyebrows raised and then furrowed. "Maybe for _your_ next turn, if that's what you want. ...What did you have in mind, anyway?"

A dust of pink fell over her cheeks and she looked away. "W-Well I was just thinking that we don't know what happens next! Does the princess escape? Are she and the knight separated forever? And... and I thought, wouldn't it be interesting if he was able to get her out but the others found out about her being alive? And then he gets in big trouble because of that! And she eludes capture and comes to rescue him! Pretty neat, huh?"

Fakir smirked again. "You want to play heroine, is what you're saying in short."

"She's a strong princess! And she could pay her debt back to the knight that way! And--"

"Enough," he interrupted, capturing her lips briefly. "If that's what you want for the week after next, then fine. But for now..." He gathered her up in his arms, latching possessively around her and sighing into her hair. "I want to finish resting. And you're not getting up until I get up."

The redhead blew her cheeks out in mock-irritation, but soon softened into his embrace, letting her breath even out.

She really was the luckiest duck in the world.

And with that thought, she joined her dark-haired partner and lover into a blissful slumber.

-----------------------------

AN: TADA~! ...Weren't expecting that end, were you? Huuuuh? XD Sorry if anyone was disappointed or confused. I think everything should be properly explained with that ending, though. Fakir and Ahiru, were in fact, role-playing through the power of Fakir's ability to make his stories come true. And so he creates worlds in which they can experience their fantasies. ...Sure makes for an interesting sex life, huh?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I feel the smut part might have been a little lacking this time, but the build-up to it was what was the most clear in my mind, so I let the flow carry it. Nonetheless, I would be absolutely delighted to hear any feedback that you have. I know it has been awhile since I wrote smut in fic form, so I hope I am not losing my touch yet (but if anything at all really bugs or confuses you, don't hesitate to tell me!). I did thoroughly enjoy writing this, however, and I hope you liked it.

Thank you for reading!


	5. Puzzle Pieces

AN: Hey, guys! Long time no see, huh? Well, I'm back with a new fic. You're probably going to find this one to be a bit... different than the rest. I wrote it on a whim and in a very different style than I usually tend to write. Role-playing the characters has made writing fic a bit harder, but I hope you'll still be able to follow along and enjoy the story!

About this fic: I always wanted to write this type of a 'first time' smut scene. You've seen no shortage of smooth smut stories from me so far, right? Well, what I wanted was to write one that was, in short, a _mess_. I wanted something awkward and disjointed and neither of them knowing what they were doing and just a big disaster! So that's what I wrote. And I really, really enjoyed writing this, so I hope that you will enjoy reading it, even if it differs from my norm.

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu or any of its characters. They belong to the wonderful Itoh Ikuko and HAL films and I'm only borrowing them for creative purposes.

Hope you enjoy the fic!

* * *

**Puzzle Pieces**

Their first time was full of confusion and immeasurable awkwardness.

Oddly enough, it was Ahiru who brought it about - though not by specific intention. Fakir noted a restlessness growing in the duck-turned-girl starting in mid-April of that year - three years since the ex-knight brought about the miracle of changing her back into a human form - and it became increasingly hard to turn a blind eye to her behavior. Ahiru was energetic by nature, but her mannerisms had turned almost skittish and distinctly unnatural, even for her. She couldn't sit still for long and although it was more than common for her to visit the lake frequently (seeing as she was naturally a duck), she had begun seeking its soothing coolness on days that were not warm at all.

As April waned into May and the weather warmed further, the ex-knight started to develop a suspicion that the redhead was unwell. She turned alarmingly feverish and it seemed as though every passing day was taking a little more of her natural cheer and optimism away from her. It was difficult for Fakir not to panic.

Unable to stand by and simply watch her deteriorate (never again would he allow uselessness to bind him) her worried companion took her to see a physician in town. The doctor was elderly, and though that could be seen as a sign of experience and wisdom, he could find nothing physically wrong with the redhead at all. There was no apparent reasoning for her temperature changes or her behavioral inconsistencies, as far as he and his tests could tell. The news instilled a deeper uneasiness in Ahiru and a festering irritation in Fakir, which covered over the fear ballooning within his heart. All the doctor could offer was a sympathetic hand to the girl's forehead and instructions for bed rest, eating good, healthy foods and drinking plenty of water.

_Useless_, Fakir thought as he left with the duck-girl held up in his arms (as though somehow he could protect her from her own illness that way). And he wasn't certain as to whether he was referring to the doctor, or to himself.

It wasn't until they returned to Fakir's small cottage near the lake, and to the redhead's bedside, that he realized a strange symptom to the 'sickness' that hadn't been present before - or at least that he hadn't been aware of. As soon as he had attempted to gently lay Ahiru down onto the sheets, she'd clung to him - flushly and desperately. At first, he thought it to be a sign of her reliance and need for him, or perhaps out of fear of what was happening to her.

But her hands were roaming, and that didn't take long to realize, as he felt his body instinctively going rigid from the vigor of her touch. He'd yelped in a very uncharacteristic manner when her fingertips had idly slipped right under the collar of his shirt to smooth across his collarbone. Yet when he'd wrenched her back to demand what the hell she was doing, the words died in his throat the moment his eyes met hers.

There was something in her half-lidded gaze that made him freeze on the spot, even as her hands continued to explore incessantly and without restraint. Tears had begun collecting at the corners of her blue eyes. He dimly heard her plead for him not to leave her and her blubbering on about how good touching him felt and how sorry she was that she didn't understand what was happening to her and endless apologies for worrying him and causing him trouble.

Fakir didn't hear her. His mind was busy reeling at an alarming rate because he already understood what she did not. And the answer dawned on him with such startling and sudden clarity that he was nearly in shock. The timing, why the doctor was unable to find anything wrong with her, why she was suddenly provoked to touching in a manner that most certainly wasn't normal...

It could only be one thing. Ahiru herself didn't realize it. Perhaps she couldn't, when she was in a human girl's body instead of a duck's.

The ex-knight reached up to wipe the traces of moisture from her eyes and murmured words of comfort into her ear as he rocked her back and forth.

Never would he abandon her, whether the situation was familiar to him or not. Even one as distressing as what laid before him now.

* * *

Normally, when Fakir was faced with a problem or an issue that he didn't know how to deal with or approach, he consulted books. Knowledge was a powerful tool, after all. The more you knew and the more you opened your mind to the possibilities, the more of a chance you stood against what it was you were dealing with.

As different as this 'problem' was from any other situation he had ever dealt with, the knight turned writer dealt with it the same way: he visited the library.

That in itself was not uncommon for him to do, even for the sake of finding interesting material to read or occupy his time. However, the thought of the subject matter he was to be searching for stained his cheeks with color even before he walked through the front doors.

It wasn't hard to find what he was looking for. There was an entire section devoted to it. But what _did_ prove difficult was not attracting attention to himself. The ex-knight swore that it must have taken well over twenty minutes of pacing and browsing other nearby aisle of books with fake interest before he could hope to slip into that restricted area unnoticed. (Really, he wondered, why would they have _that_ section right on the opposite side of cheesy romance books that was crawling with teenage girls? Did the universe really hate him that much?)

By some miracle, he'd managed to procure a number of books to help him (and had refused to even glance at the pictures on the covers before stuffing them into his bag), his face glowing with embarrassment and brows hitched inward - which rather gave him the appearance of an angry tomato. And Fakir thought himself to be home free when he headed for the exit without incident.

But that was not to be. He'd almost made it to the doors that led outside when a voice had chirped behind him that he dropped something. His blood had iced over on the spot - he didn't even need to wonder what it was. Instead, he'd spun on heel, snatched the book away from the grinning blonde, stuffed it back into his bag, and rushed out the door without a word.

The aggravating titter of giggling and laughter followed him out, but he ignored it.

There was someone waiting for him. And she was the important factor. Not his embarrassment, not the stupid books, not his own feelings on this matter. He wouldn't let her down. If this was what she needed... then he would help her seek that relief, his own insecurities be damned.

She was trusting him.

* * *

Even harder than smuggling the books was actually trying to open one.

Not only did the mere thought of it make his insides churn with unfathomable discomfort, but Ahiru's curious hovering was not helping matters in the least. She was far too interested in it - and she pouted and argued that she needed to learn about it just as much as Fakir did. But he was strictly adamant on not reading that material with her - he could only suffer so much discomfort at this point. Any more than that would be nothing less than torture.

Ahiru had no choice but to return to her room and wait, as the dark-haired young man had firmly instructed of her. She was aware of her own condition now, at least. Thankfully, Fakir hadn't been forced to sputter more than a few words about it the prior night before the redhead caught on with surprising ease.

Instinct was good for something, he supposed, even if it was at fault for what she was going through in the first place.

Without the duck-girl's presence, it still took him at least a full hour before he could summon enough courage to open one of the books. And from thereon in, it took at least five more to read through the material (especially considering he had to take breaks every few minutes just to hold his heated face in his hands or smack his head against his writing desk).

Fakir wasn't an idiot. Any young man of nineteen, like himself, would at least know the basics. But he had hoped that reading the books - as mortifying as it was - would give him some measure of experience without actually having performed the actions before.

Unfortunately, there wasn't even a nuance of confidence that he could dredge up afterward. If anything, he felt even more unsure and doomed to failure than when he had first even considered helping Ahiru with her unique problem.

He didn't know how to touch someone. Not like _that_. And there was no one that he cared for more than Ahiru - despite how easily annoyed with her he could become and how harsh he could be at times, he had come to accept that he was irreversibly in love with her.

That made him terrified of doing something wrong. If he hurt her or screwed up in some way, she was the one mostly likely to pay for that mistake. And there was the nagging fact that Ahiru wasn't at all prepared for this. She could feel her instincts pulling her along, but she was not accustomed to how humans handled the idea of mating.

Yet she had trusted him with this. It was him that she asked for. He would have even turned her back into a duck temporarily if it assisted her in dealing with her nature's calling, and he'd told her so, but she insisted that she wanted it to be him, as long as he was willing to help her.

That was what finally brought him to her door. He truly trusted her just as much as she was trusting him - this was something they both were entrusting the other with. It was special.

And it was awkward beyond words.

The moment Fakir sat down beside her on her mattress, he started fidgeting. She was waiting patiently and watching him intently - a clear, wordless message that she expected him to do something. And everything that the ex-knight had read through in the books seemed to flee him at once.

Cautiously, he lifted a hand to brush along the side of her face - and instead ended up poking her in the eye by accident when his gaze had bashfully averted from hers before his fingers reached her cheek.

It was a disaster in the making.

What started with careful touching with his calloused hands escalated into sharing a kiss. And it was immediately obvious that neither of them knew what they were doing. It was sloppy and punctured by uncertainty and apologies (first when their noses bumped together and second when he'd unintentionally bitten the corner of her lip in response to the abrupt planting of her hand on his chest), which only served to make the air between them more tense.

But with perseverance, they finally relaxed into it a little more. This part, at least, Fakir could admit that he'd thought about a number of times. Physical urges didn't escalate far with him, but three years spent living with the young redhead provoked at least a few less than appropriate thoughts. And where Ahiru and unexpected nakedness were concerned, it was hard not to get a flash now and then and subsequently dwell on it.

Of course, this had much further to go than a locking of the lips. Fakir was more than aware of that. What she needed to sate her was something far more deeply rooted. And now that they were engaged like this, as awkward and strange as it was, he could feel a need of his own begin to grow.

Moving on from the kiss was not an easy feat. Once they had pulled back from the heated enjoyment of joining their mouths, Fakir found himself at a loss again. His hands pulled away from her face to hang suspended in the air, twitching slightly in indecision. Touching would be next, to help prepare them both for what was to come later, but he did not know where to start.

Well, he had an idea, but... that said nothing about Ahiru's comfort level. While her instincts had driven her to touch him freely out of blind need, he had no idea how she would react to being the one to have hands laid upon her in places that they hadn't been before.

So the ex-knight swallowed his embarrassment and asked her.

Her answering smile could have melted the strongest wall of ice with its small glow of warmth. She didn't even hesitate before telling him that she just wanted to be touched - anywhere and everywhere - and that she wanted to return those attentions.

It was slow progress. And again, there were apologies made and there were tanned hands flying away from his partner's form whenever a reaction came about that startled him - which was unfortunately quite often. Ahiru, on the other hand, masked her nerves with loud giggling.

A good hour later, Fakir was about ready to call it quits for the night. What the books claimed was supposed to happen didn't seem to be. The two of them appeared to be more flushed from the awkwardness than they were from actually being aroused. And not for the first time, Fakir felt like a worthless failure.

He swore that it was not because he didn't want to do this with her. If there was anyone he could ever see him engaging in this with, it was only the girl before him. But his own skittish movements and ministrations only caused Ahiru's to grow more tempered and cautious, as well. It was as though they were both treading on thin ice, and neither one knew just where the solid ground was that would give them security.

Yet it was at that moment of hopelessness when he was ready to postpone the act that Ahiru had leaned forward and kissed him fully, uncaring of how she hadn't tilted her head far enough or that she'd wet the area of his chin. She was only focused on the feeling behind it - and she let it guide her. Fakir could feel it even without words and it sent a strange bubble of excitement through him.

When she finally pulled back to look at him, he understood completely. This wasn't the time to give up and write himself off as a failure and go drown himself in a pity party over his worthlessness. This... was an opportunity to show the girl he loved just how much he loved her and how he would do whatever it took to take care of her.

Even after the wordless exchange, nothing went smoothly when they continued. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But now, there was a lack of hesitation in them both. Explorations were clumsy and misguided, but the intent behind them was clear: both of them wanted to make each other feel good.

And as if they'd found the magic that was missing, the pieces started to fall into place. Nothing fit perfectly, of course. A puzzle such as theirs was jammed with the wrong pieces in the wrong places. But they made it work for them - and that made all the difference. The picture did not have to be pretty or properly put together.

Fakir's fingers fumbled as he touched skin in places upon the redhead that burned his fingertips with an odd desire to caress, knead, and squeeze alternately. He had no idea if he was doing things the way the books instructed, but he no longer cared about following the rules. The sounds that Ahiru made were proof enough that his touch didn't have to be in just the right spot or move in just the right way.

And likewise, the stiffness in his slacks spoke of how he was handling her own fingers' traveling paths over his arms and his shirt and thigh. There was no special technique to it - his body didn't seem to care how she touched as long as it was her that was touching.

For what felt like forever, they just kept roaming their hands and exploring each other's skin and shape. There was no shortage of things to feel and no small amount of sounds to be both heard and released. Breathing was growing more ragged and soon those touches gained a note of almost frantic desperation.

The clothes were the next obstacle to be approached. As to be expected by this point, it was no easy feat for either of them. A tug-of-war even broke out between the two when Fakir insisted on handling all of it for the both of them, spurring immediate retaliation from the redhead. They bickered as they pulled and tugged, and the actions resulted with Ahiru somehow getting her head stuck in the sleeve of her top and breaking the clasp of Fakir's pants.

And yet, even that played its part. Fighting was something they were both used to doing, particularly when it came to dealing with the other. Not often was it a good thing, but it was honest. In this case, it allowed them to let a bit more of their pent-up feelings loose. It eased more of the tightly-knotted tension away and brought with it, as a result, laughter from the girl at how tousled her partner looked and the barest of smiles from the boy due to her ridiculously infectious demeanor.

From that point on, the removal of the rest of the clothing was a joint effort. An undeniable dose of embarrassment had slipped back in as the last of the clothes were slowly and carefully peeled away, but it wasn't enough to stop them from plowing onward. By now, both had come to terms with the tug of desire on their senses, which was just another natural thing to Ahiru and flourished from years of attraction in Fakir's case.

Ahiru would later recall this night as the first time that he called her beautiful. It hadn't been direct, but more of a slip of the tongue, falling out from his lips as they glided up along her jaw and his fingers buried into her hair. But she would treasure it. The honesty in his husky voice was unmistakable. And for the first time, she felt like she really wanted to be just Ahiru in every way instead of more like Princess Tutu.

Fakir changed many things when it came to her own view of herself. The attentions he rained on her were clearly for _her_ - for the duck, for the girl - and not for a pretty and graceful princess that she was not. Even when clad in the pristine white and wearing a crown of gold during the now-finished tale, he saw through to who she really was and it made all the difference in her heart.

And that was because she could wholly trust him with herself just as she was, down to the very last freckle and every awkward mannerism.

With the full baring of skin and hiding nothing more from one another, the prior languidness of their actions began to pick up pace. Hands gained eagerness to touch, bodies became warm with the heat created within and slick with thin films of perspiration, eyes became eager to see without shyness, and ears became in-tune to the sound of erratic breathing and the pleasant rumble of moans. It wasn't dancing and it wasn't graceful at all, but it was addictive, somehow. Neither could deny that.

It was with gentle insistence that Fakir lowered her to lay on the bed, inclining over her and rocking his groin to the dampened space between her legs. He'd forgotten about the book and about the 'right' way to initiate each step and he was working strictly by the guidance of his body and hers. She felt ready and so did he, and that was enough for the ex-knight to pull back and meet her ever-blue gaze, his fingertips brushing her cheek.

Though he had asked the question many times over the past day, Fakir decided that he should ask her once more before he crossed that last barrier. He would never do anything that she wasn't all right with. And although her response had been good to this point (really, so much more than he ever would have hoped for given how little either of them knew of this), he wanted to be absolutely certain that she was prepared.

He had taken a confident breath and opened his mouth to offer that question one last time, but like a rush of wind out of nowhere blowing a candle out, he suddenly felt left in the dark and terrified. Before the ex-knight even knew what he was saying, he was apologizing at high speed - for every little thing he'd done to her in the past, for failing her, for not being the man he thought she deserved, for the pain that this would initially cause her to suffer through, for being her first time-which while it likely wasn't special for ducks, it had a deeper meaning to humans, and-

The following apology never escaped his throat. Her hand had come up and grabbed his face in-between her thumb and fingers, squishing his cheeks inward and giving his face a rather comical-looking expression with his lips jutting out. He blinked down at her, baffled, and she smiled in a way that made his heart want to skip numerous beats.

Ahiru reminded him that she asked for it - she asked for _him_. And it was selfish. But with Fakir, she wanted it to be okay for her to be selfish sometimes. Theirs was not a selflessly giving relationship. It was give and take, push and pull. A constant conflict.

With lips swollen and wet from the inexperienced and messy manner of kissing they shared, she told him that she wanted him to let go. Show me _Fakir_, she said, not his fears and his worries - and in return she promised she would give him all of her that she had to give.

It was not a sappy love confession, but it was somehow so much more than that to the young writer. And so, he resolved that he would tear down his walls, just as she wished. It was the ultimate display of trust - and baring all to one another was more than words could possibly say.

He was careful as he eased into her for the very first time and he ceased moving the very moment she showed discomfort. Fakir had known this was coming (he could begrudgingly admit that the texts had been good for _something_) and he intended to soothe her as much as he was able. He held her close as she stiffened and shivered and clung to him shamelessly, allowing her body time to adjust and the initial pain to pass.

Fakir kept a firm but gentle grip on her the entire time that she whimpered and squirmed, roving his hand over her hair and the side of her face and staying as still as he could manage. He wanted to move, but he wasn't about to continue until she was ready for it. Protection was just another deeply-embedded part of who he was, even if he was protecting her from the needs of his own body.

Amidst that awkward form of comfort, he called her his clumsy moron as he swore to her that he'd make everything better soon. And Ahiru had felt the oddest of sensations birth and erupt in her stomach, like a pack of furious butterflies being released inside of it.

There was nothing flattering about that name at all. It usually annoyed her to be referred to in such a way and ended with them having an argument or her stepping on his toes. But now, it was the way that he said it that made her feel all warm and fluttery inside. 'Clumsy moron' might as well have been the biggest compliment in the world when he said with such an overwhelming amount of softness in his tone.

With a smile to match the softness of his voice, she wriggled slightly from beneath Fakir's form and told him it was all right for them to continue.

And they did.

It was not harmony that they moved in. If anything, their beats were completely off the mark and nothing matched. The jerk of his hips met the twist of her legs. She pulled back at the same time that he did and caused him to slip out by accident. He bent to kiss her and fumbled, his face instead falling to meet her chest and nose brushing along the inside of one small breast. He pushed too hard with one thrust and sent the crown of her head slamming against the wooden headboard of the bed. She yanked his hair to the right so hard that he had to stumble to catch himself with one arm before he fell off to her side and out of her again.

There was no shortage of mistakes and frustrations and awkward apologies and flushed features. And yet that only seemed to make the situation all the more... _them_. They were there for one another without fail, even while showing their obvious weaknesses and lack of knowledge in how to perform the act properly. There were moments of anger, there were moments of sweetness, there was endless embarrassment, and there was no shortage of honesty in every bit of it.

They did not hold back. Even the most spectacular of failures were displayed openly.

It felt good and it felt awkward and it felt uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. There was no way to quite put their floundering act into words that described it sufficiently. And the pair of friends - partners - and now_ lovers _- didn't dwell on the drawbacks and the problems. They faced each other, they faced their shortcomings, and they shared their physical connection in the oddest, but most incredible way.

What started as the determination to quell and satisfy Ahiru's mating instinct had grown far beyond what either Fakir or Ahiru could have imagined. It was completion in the most incomplete of ways - more puzzle pieces that weren't meant to fit together and yet somehow inexplicably interlocked in the right way.

They did not reach climax at the same time. Ahiru found her peak first, seemingly out of nowhere. And her sudden convulsions and screeching had alarmed the ex-knight so much that he'd pulled right out of her in a panic. But when his name meandered its way into that shrill noise filling the bedroom air, he was gone before he even realized what had occurred.

The first thing that forced itself to the forefront of Fakir's mind afterward was that he felt sticky and hot. And there was something in his mouth - it felt like hair. Upon cracking his eyes open, he found that he was laying on top of the duck-girl, who was whining into his chest that he was heavy and squirming underneath him. He moved his head around far enough to press a lop-sided kiss to her forehead before he slid off to her side and called her an idiot for no apparent reason.

She elbowed him in the stomach in non-verbal response, which momentarily took his breath away - in his current state of over-exertion, everything seemed to hurt more than it really should have. Ahiru immediately began to apologize when she saw his pained expression, but all he did was grumble and tiredly slap a hand over her mouth to silence her.

Fakir thought that he should have felt much more embarrassed now that there was nothing egging them onward and demanding their focus. But now that the act had reached completion, he felt strangely content and unwilling to wind his arm from around the small of her back or his leg from its curled position over both of hers. She did not fight him on the matter, though she did shoot him a dirty look once she pried his sweaty hand off of her face.

An almost comfortable silence laid suspended between the two partners as they let their breathing calm, a glance exchanged here or there. It was the male who finally plucked up enough courage to speak - and with a slight strain to his voice, he asked if she was all right. Her nod came swiftly. She assured him that she felt fine now, and was quick to add (with a pout) that he'd better not even dare to start calling himself useless or a failure or she would pinch his cheeks until they were raw.

That provoked a rare smile to lift up the corners of his lips - lips that leaned forward to press against hers for just a brief moment. Never change, he told her with his mouth a bare centimeter from her own, sincerity hidden into the amusement of his voice. Ahiru giggled and reached out to pinch his cheek anyway, stretching it out and rubbing her nose against his own. She told him, matter-of-factly, that this proved that he was just as clumsy as she was. The scowl he promptly shot at her didn't quite reach his eyes.

After an awkward explanation about the 'sticky white stuff' Ahiru was both horrified and puzzled to find that covered her torso and the bed beneath them, they lapsed into a renewed silence, facing each other side-by-side and molded together while still tangled and sweat-ridden. Out of the blue, the redhead had asked for a story - any story with a happy ending. Her companion sighed and ran his fingers through her locks, but complied, telling her a nonsense tale right off the top of his head. It was mundane and simple and not exciting or engaging, but her blue eyes held onto his every word as though he was retelling the most amazing story she'd ever heard.

Being with you felt like that, she told him afterward. She admitted it was kind of weird, but it was special because he made it special, just like the fisherman in the story made a wood carving especially for his sweetheart, even if it wasn't very good.

Her kiss following was not expected, but not unwelcome, either. Fakir only managed to return it briefly before he stammered to ask her if she really was all right with everything that had happened between them.

Ahiru answered him with a grin so bright that it caused him to blush on the spot, and his green eyes broadened with confusion. He didn't expect her to be so... _happy_ after what had taken place, given how rough and rocky the path had been. Yet her smile was true to the last dimple it left in her cheek. And it filled his chest up to the brim with a very light and pleasant feeling.

He was prepared then and there to tell her that he loved her. It seemed like the perfect time - a moment that he shouldn't squander and miss his chance. Thus he lifted himself up onto his arms and licked his lower lip in preparation for the words to come his heart thumping a mile-a-minute within his chest.

However, when she leaned forward and gleefully announced that she would do her best to lay healthy eggs, Fakir tumbled and fell backward right down off of the bed before he could say a word.

* * *

And that's it! ...I couldn't resist a definite comedic element to it, even with all the fluff that came of this story. I hope you can forgive me. If you can spare the time, I'd love to hear what you thought of it! I'm a bit nervous on how 'out of practice' I am with writing and with trying such a new style to this particular fic.

Thank you very much for reading!


	6. Just a Little Bit Closer

**A/N**: Okay, let's face it. I'm always about writing with plot and depth. But you know what? I just don't have the patience for that lately. SO HAVE SOME PWP. ...Yeah, I'm not even kidding. There's very thin plot to this and if you blink, you'll miss it. This is based mainly on a sketchy drawing done by a Japanese artist - yes, that's almost wholly what prompted it. This can be assumed to be post-series by a couple years, and Ahiru is a girl again (no, I don't even explain why or how this time). This is also told from her POV.

**Summary**: Fakir disappears after abruptly excusing himself during Ahiru and the intermediate class's performance. A disgruntled Ahiru tracks him down and demands to know why he left. But she gets an answer that's a bit more than she bargained for.

**Disclaimer**: Princess Tutu and all of its characters do not belong to me. They belong to the wonderful Itoh Ikuko and HAL Films. I am only borrowing them for writing purposes.

* * *

**Just a Little Bit Closer**

* * *

Of all places, she finds him near the south side of the ballet building. It's a shadowed little nook and she really only went there as a last resort after failing to find him anywhere else on the grounds, but there's no mistaking the young man with the dark-haired ponytail who's propped up against the stone between two towering columns.

He looks like he's brooding, she thinks as she approaches him, her ballet slippers clutched to her chest. He's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and looking rather intently at the ground. She's not entirely sure if he just hasn't heard her approaching or if he's being distant on purpose - with Fakir, it could be either.

However, Ahiru is not one just to let things go without an explanation. She is not sure what it was that upset him during the small performance she and the other intermediate students had given to the advanced class at the end of the day, but she's been with him too long to be put off by his bad moods.

And besides, she wants an answer - straight from his mouth.

A few feet away from him, she comes to a stop. He still hasn't looked up and she digs the point of her black shoe into the ground.

"Fakir." She says his name clearly, but he still gives to sign that he's even acknowledged her presence. Her cheeks puff out with annoyance. "_Fakir_!" she repeats more insistently, voice reflecting her building agitation.

He shifts, which is the most movement she has seen from him so far, but somehow that ruffles her feathers even more. What is his _problem_?

"Was it really that bad?" she huffs out, brows drawn together as her hands find her hips. They had been dating for a couple of months now. She thought he might be at least a _little_ more supportive, even if her dancing was nowhere near on par with what he could do. "I tried really hard to get everything right! I don't see why you had to-"

"That's not it," he cuts in, though he's now purposefully looking _away_ from her.

"Then what _is_ it?" she presses, taking another step forward. She really wasn't in the mood for the guessing games. Did he have any idea how embarrassing it was for her when she nearly finished her part of the routine and he just... _stood up and left_? "If you don't tell me, I'm not gonna understand!"

He turns toward her, then, briefly staring at her before he sharply turns away once more. She watches his adam's apple bob for a moment before his lips part. "...Never mind."

She tries not to let it get to her - she really does. But Fakir knows how lacking in self-confidence she is. Ahiru thought that he would at least tell her to ease her nerves, if nothing else! And she can't decide if she feels more angry or more disappointed about his dismissal. He's teased her before, but this is not the same. Something is very obviously bothering him and he won't even trust her enough to tell her _what_.

Slowly, her hands slide down from her hips and hang with her shoulders slightly slouched as she releases one long sigh. "...Y'know I'm gonna worry about it, right? Whenever you say things like "Never mind" or "It doesn't matter" or "Forget it", I... it just makes me worry _more_ 'cause I know you're not telling me something! And if I upset you, then... then I at least want to know."

And she really would leave him be if that's what he wanted, but she didn't want this kind of tension to follow them both back to Charon's, either. At least if it was out in the open, she could apologize or... _something_, at least. It was better than being left in the dark and wondering if he was mad or upset. As it was, it took her at least twenty minutes to find him back here.

Yet Fakir doesn't move a muscle, staying stoic and quiet, legs crossed as he leans against the building. And Ahiru didn't really want to get in a fight. She is irritated with him, but she knows well enough that prodding at him usually leads to explosions and them not speaking to each other for sometimes a full day afterward. That isn't something that she wants and she doubts that he does, either.

With one more glance in his direction and another sigh, the redheaded girl turns around. "I won't dance in front of you anymore if it makes you upset or ashamed or whatever, okay?"

Before she can walk away, however, his hand is suddenly on her shoulder and she blinks with a small jerk of surprise. She didn't even hear him move.

"I said that wasn't it," he speaks from behind her, and she thinks that his voice sounds a little strained. "This isn't... This isn't something I should tell you about. Leave it at that."

Any lingering anger she was holding onto fades away at those words, quickly replaced by concern. He sounds more awkward than normal; his words don't carry the firm tone that she's used to. The subject of her worry abruptly changes. "Fakir? Are you... are you alright?"

Suddenly, she feels guilty. She had been so worried about her own embarrassment that she hadn't even stopped to consider that Fakir might have left for an entirely different reason. He even _said_ so, but she had been too blinded by her irritation with his lack of a straight answer.

Instead of him answering verbally, though, she feels his fingers kneading just along the collar of her shirt. The motions are slow and... oddly soothing.

"Fakir...?" she tries again, but her voice softer than before.

His fingers still momentarily, then the digits slide over to her shoulder, down over her arm...

And suddenly, with a small squeak of surprise escaping her throat, she finds herself all but pressed right up against him, his arm firmly latching over her front and pinning one of her arms to her chest in the process. A flush swiftly turns her face to nearly the color of her hair. "F-Fakir?"

"Don't...move away," he breathes into her ear, his words almost hitched. She almost thinks she can feel his heartbeat from where her back is pressed up to his chest. "I just need..."

He doesn't elaborate any further, but the near-plead to his voice is enough for her to follow his wishes. She likes being held by him - that was something that the duck-girl discovered long ago - but this is not quite the same. This warmth is... different. It's...

It's _cloying_ and she can almost feel it like a hot pressure that surrounds her - like he's _radiating_ the heat himself. She squirms, once, and the sharp gasp in her ear makes her own breath catch in her throat.

When did Fakir ever make noises like _that_? She feels something almost like a shiver that wants to course through her, but she's not cold. No, she's not cold at all.

For a long moment, they simply stand like that, his heartbeat against her back, his breaths shallow and tickling the curve of her ear. And her face is growing hotter, as though she's channeling in that abundance of heat that he's giving off.

It's strange, but now her heart is starting to beat more quickly, as well. This is not the same as when he shyly took her hand and kissed her for the first time. Not even the second or the third or the fourth.

He seems desperate somehow - his grip is unrelenting, as though he's afraid she might just vanish if he releases her. And she doesn't not understand, but even with her mouth working soundlessly, she cannot find the words to ask.

It is rare that he touches her - most especially in public - and it's usually fleeting. They don't kiss for long, he usually gets awkward about holding hands, and embraces are more or less initiated by her. This is different - the way he's holding her, the heat, his breath lightly tickling a few stray strands of her own hair against her face - he's close and he's not moving away.

After what feels like forever, she finally manages to find her voice long enough to ask, "Fakir, is s...something wrong?"

She feels his fingers slide up and down her clothed arm. "Something... might be wrong with me," he answers in a breathy manner that makes goosebumps form along her arms beneath the uniform. And she prepares to inquire further when she feels him giving a sudden jerk of his hips into the back of her skirt. But as instantly as the contact is made, he pulls straight back. "I..."

Ahiru is unsure of what to think. Should she check if he has a fever? Does she need to lead him home so he can rest? Those are the obvious things that come to mind, but there is a part of her that seems to think that's not it at all. So what did he-

"I want to touch you," he interrupts her thoughts, his voice lower than before, and the shiver she fought down before tingles straight up her spine without warning, her eyes growing wide. "I need to..."

The words are foreign to her ears. They almost sound like something that couldn't come from his lips, and yet she's certain that she didn't mishear them.

Before she can bring herself to respond, she feels him move - edging them both toward the side of the building and still keeping his grip taught around her front. "Ahiru," he speaks her name in a needy manner that she is completely unfamiliar with, but that is strangely nice to her ears. "Please..."

"I..." her own voice, she realizes, has grown hoarse. Swallowing down, she tries again to break the words free. "I... can help?"

By now, he nearly has her all but pinned up against the side of the stone building, one of his legs rubbing along the side of hers. The warmth that once flocked to her face spreads, reaching her ears and her neck. "I need you," he responds in that same husky tone, leaning in far enough that she can feel his lips brush her cheek as he speaks. "That room was stifling... I couldn't take it. I had to get... out."

The words don't make much sense to her. He needed her, but he was bothered enough that he had to get out of the room? Did he mean it was something else that drove him out?

"It... wasn't my fault?"

The pause that follows her question makes her insides tighten a little bit further with uncertainty.

"It is your fault," he responds as he presses his warm lips right beneath her ear. "And mine."

Trying to make sense out of Fakir was usually difficult, yes, but normally he would be straight with her sooner or later - even blunt at times. Now, she only felt more and more confused with every word that passed through his lips.

Lips that felt good against her skin...

"What... did I do?" She does want to know, but her voice almost breaks when she feels his hips move forward against her again. He doesn't pull away so quickly this time, and can feel... something stiff pressing up against the small of her back through her skirt.

"You..." his breath is hot on her neck, his dark bangs brushing her skin in a way that makes her tense in his grasp. "_Moved_... captivated me... made me want..."

She braces herself against the stone wall with the hand not held to her front, his voice making her weak in the knees. "W... Want?"

His breath releases in pants, the arm viced around her front finally loosening. "Want _you_," he says with a firmer tone than before, and in the blink of an eye, his hands are on her chest beneath the folds of her uniform jacket, cupping underneath of the small mounds.

For a moment, Ahiru is unsure of how to react. She is not familiar with being touched there, but she can feel the heat from his hands, feel it flooding into her. And it's making her squirm.

"F-F-Fakir?"

He answers her not verbally, but with a squeeze of his fingers around the lower half of her chest, and she gasps out in surprise from the sudden shock that lights up in her. "A-Ah!"

"Please," he repeats, leaving a short trail of wet kisses down along the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "I can't..."

Though she still doesn't understand what exactly it is that he's pleading with her for, Ahiru can't deny that even if the sensations are new and strange, it feels good. He has never touched her like this before. And for once, he's not shying away from her or shutting her out.

"Mm," she responds on a tight breath of her own, arching into that strangely addicting motion of his fingers over the springy flesh. "I... I like that."

And she's not making it up for his sake, either. His hands feel good where they massage and crease the cloth covering her breasts. He is not as hesitant as he was when he would hold her fingers in his, or brush them along the side of her face. And she likes this change.

It's not long before she can feel even more confidence in his touch - or maybe it desperation, she's not sure - but he's growing more firm and eager in his ministrations. And her breath is getting shorter as a result, the heat moving and expanding within her.

"I won't... go too far," he says, as if in reassurance to her. Ahiru doesn't know just what he means, but she decides that she doesn't need to. She knows that Fakir cares about her a lot - and she trusts him.

With his declaration, though, he starts moving too quickly for her to really follow what is going on - especially when she's facing the building. One of his hands dropped from her chest, and where it went, she didn't know, but she could feel him shifting around behind her, one leg still jerking up against her own. The other set of fingers never left where it was planted on her front, still kneading her from above the clothing.

"Hnnhh... mnn!" Her body definitely feels hot, and her bangs are clinging to the side of her face now with a moisture she didn't feel there before.

"Ahiru," he speaks her name again, and this time it sends a slice of heat up through her - which only intensifies when she feels a draft just briefly before his groin is pressed directly into the back of her panties. The stiffness she thought she felt before is definitely there, but it is not as restrained, and she swears she can feel him pulse against the light fabric that separates their skin.

Fakir groans into her ear as he rubs the hardness up against her underclothing, pushing her further into the wall. And she can feel him tugging at her panties with the same hand, trying to pull them down.

The area between her legs feels... damp. It is something she hasn't noticed until now, but she feels it when he tugs at the cloth impatiently.

"Fakiiiir," her own voice takes on a needy edge and she sways her hips against his, as if that will help somehow. All it does is provoke a strained noise from him, however, and he slides his hand over her exposed backside, the shudder that goes through him passing straight to her.

This is definitely the most touching he's done and the most intimate they have ever been, but Ahiru doesn't find herself alarmed at all. Fakir is making something birth and grow in her and she wants to experience new things with him. If he can make her feel good, she wants him to feel good, too.

Somehow, it becomes lost to her that they are even in the back of the ballet building, together in a manner that is most certainly inappropriate for the academy grounds. All that exists is this heat and him and the press of his body against hers.

He moves again from behind her, little grunts escaping him as he pulls back slightly from her backside and jerks his hand around beneath her skirt. Then, a moment later, he releases a sound she can't quite identify - almost like a sharp hiss - and the hairs on the back of her neck instantly stand up on end.

His breathing has somehow grown even harsher and his grasp of her chest is unwavering as he shifts - and then she_ feels _it.

"Ahhhn!" her voice raises a little as she flattens herself into the stone of the wall, legs quivering. What was hard and pulsing is now touching her rear, no cloth between either of them, and the heat is just too intense for her not to react. His hand pulls out from beneath her skirt and appears at the wall next to her head, and she can literally_ feel _his heavy and unsteady breaths as he just marginally moves that piece of flesh up against her.

"Ngh...God, you feel so..."

He trails off between gasps and grunts and other low-pitched noises as he slides himself against her, the bell of her skirt hiding the actions beneath from direct view. She cannot even form words well. The heat is so tight, the throb of him against her is making her feel so strange, but she needs...

"M...more...!"

Ahiru doesn't even know exactly what she's asking for, but she knows that she needs him to keep going. She needs to feel more of this.

And he obliges wordlessly, grunting out against the back of her neck as he increases the pace of his actions. The hand bracing against the wall once again lowers, moving to give a quick squeeze to her chest before traveling down further.

It is hard for her to decipher what's going on, but from one moment to the next, he's moving his hard length deeper between the cheeks of her backside and his fingers are down between her legs, stroking the wetness she felt there before. The sensations are so overwhelming that she can't even stop herself from crying out.

"Y-_Yes_!" he growls out against her skin as if in immediate response to her, the jerking motions of his hips increasing, but losing more and more control as the seconds pass. "That's it... that's..."

Fakir cuts off on a loud groan as he slips just the tip of his finger experimentally between her folds. And instantly, she tenses up, a strangled noise catching in her throat. It suddenly feels like everything is just too much, even though she wants more, and she can't make sense of it but somehow she just _needs_...!

He is still moving faster. She doesn't know how he can be at this point, but he_ is _and she feel so much and she swears something in her is just going to burst! Especially with the way his single finger is moving in her, driving her closer-!

"Ahi..._Ahi_-!" His voice is so strained that she thinks he sounds like he's in pain, but he's not stopping. And she doesn't want him to. She's all but clawing at the stone building as she fights for air, and he's clutching to her breast to hold him solidly against him as he bucks her into the wall over and over.

Then, from one moment to the next, Ahiru could no longer determine what was even happening. He tenses first and she feels it and she feels a huge throb against her rear just before he cries out her name and his body shakes and trembles almost violently from behind her. And she can't even ask him what's wrong because something then overtakes her completely when that single digit of his within her touches something, sending her body, her mind, her entire _consciousness_ suddenly flooding through with white and pleasure and exploding a myriad of dancing colors in front of her eyes.

Ahiru doesn't know how long it is before she feels like she knows who she is and where she is once more, but she finds herself half-collapsed against the wall of the building, Fakir's warm weight pressing over her, and feeling like she just danced for her life. She heaves for breath, taking in all she can to refill her needy lungs. Her body feels sweaty and sticky but there's relief and unmistakably nice, warm feelings running through her.

That was just... with Fakir, she shared something... incredible.

"I'm sorry," his voice suddenly rasps out after a short groan when he shifts against her, his limp length still pressing up along her backside. He takes several breaths before he continues. "I knew... I was going to lose it if I stayed around you. And... you had to come looking for me. You idiot."

She blinks, certainly not expecting those to be the first words out of his mouth.

"Then... Then I'm an idiot," she concedes, her voice is still not completely back to normal. "And so are you, for being sorry."

Maybe Fakir doesn't understand some things either, she thinks. While this was definitely new to her, she wouldn't take it back if she was given the opportunity. It's special and it _means_ something between her and Fakir - and she instinctively knows that.

"...You're not upset?" His voice sounds oddly surprised. "After I just..."

Ahiru can hear the underlying shame in his tone and she doesn't want that. No, she wants him to be as pleased about this as she is.

"I feel closer to you," she blurts out, and feels her cheeks heat up a bit again. "I like that feeling. It's so much better when you don't try to shut me out or protect me from everything."

She turns in his slackened grasp, moving to press her lips rather clumsily just above his chin. And seeing the puzzled look on his face, she can't help but smile. "Please don't treat it like a bad thing? I'm fine... I'm better than fine. I promise."

He stares at her for a long moment, with that same quizzical twist to his features, and then leans down to bump his forehead against hers. "Moron. You're such an idiot. You're..." He breathes out against her skin, almost like a contented sigh. "...Everything I could ever want."

The last of his words are unexpected and fluster the redhead, her lips moving silently for a moment before she sputters, "Wh-Who are you and what did you do with Fakir?"

Just the corner of his lips curls up, not quite a smile and more like a teasing smirk. He leans in close to her, still pinning her half against the wall and half against the ground. "You don't want me to protect you from everything, right? Isn't that what you said?"

"W-Well yes, but-!" Her heart is definitely fluttering and beating in her chest just from the way he's looking at her. "Fakir, we're still... the school! We're right behind...! What if-!"

"No one comes back here, idiot. And no one _will_ as long as you quiet down."

And that's all he supplies before his mouth is on hers.

* * *

**A/N**: ...I swear to God, this was meant to be short. I feel like I'm physically incapable of writing out what was a simple idea and making it like a drabble. EVERYTHING just expands in my writing. It's like a curse.

But anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I tried writing this in present tense, since the majority of my work is in past tense and I wanted to challenge myself a little bit. Also, I apologize if the writing and/or smut is at all lacking. I haven't written fic in awhile, especially smut stuff, but I hope it's sufficient. I know the dialogue is kind of... odd at points. Sorry about that.

If you enjoyed this or even if you didn't, please feel free to leave a review and tell me what you thought! It's much appreciated.

As always, thank you very much for reading!


	7. Pushing the Limits

**A/N**: ...And I'm back again. With more smut. Why? BECAUSE THIS IS VERY LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR THE WONDERFUL BETHY/MILDMILOTIC. (No, it's seriously _very late_. I should never work on fics for birthdays for friends when I know how long it can take me with these sometimes. I shall board the failboat with my head held low...)

**About this fic**: It doesn't really tie in with any of the other ones (though it can if you want to try to connect any to it, I guess). I wanted to do a fic that centered around them exploring sex through dancing and Bethy mentioned that smut like that would probably be hot, so I thought I would try to write it out for her as a gift. I mean, the characters go to a _ballet school_, for crying out loud. The opportunities for this are immeasurable! However, I will warn you that I pretty much suck at ballet terms and properly describing dancing. I'll try my best, but please keep that in mind while reading this. There is also explanations before that - I didn't skip it this time and go straight to the smut. Haha.

* * *

**Pushing the Limits**

* * *

Eventually, the buzz _did_ die down.

And thank heavens for that, Ahiru thought as she plopped down on the bench in the girl's changing room. She had grown tired of the gawking crowds that seemed to follow her and Fakir or pop up mysteriously wherever they went together. It had been even nerve-wracking, at first. They couldn't seem to share a moment in each other's company in public without someone staring or giggling or glaring daggers specifically at her.

That was all because she and Fakir had started dating about two months ago. Ahiru had been happy about it - excited, even, when he rather awkwardly brought the subject up a few days after he had confessed to her. It was like a dream - an impossible illusion that somehow pieced itself together in reality.

Ahiru liked Fakir very much, and it only became apparent just how lonely and detached she became from him in particular when the barrier between man and duck was set down in stone at the story's completion. That was what they truly were, and it was something she had assured herself that she had to accept no matter what. As long as he was by her side, she thought it wouldn't matter.

Yet, the walls were high and they were painful, too. She couldn't speak to him. She couldn't comfort him or express how much she missed him and looked forward to his frequent visits to the lake. All she could do was quack and eat and sleep and occasionally sit on his lap to read his writing or just enjoy a pat on the head.

Ahiru wanted to say that she could have still been happy with that - she could still be content. However, that was not the case at all, if she was being honest with herself. As a duck, she couldn't even be a good companion to the person who promised to stay by her side forever.

And yet, fears started to grow within her as the days passed. What if he found a pretty girl who was human like him and who he liked much better? Would he forget about her and go on to live his human life? No one could continually dote on a waterfowl that couldn't even communicate with them, right?

She had absolutely no right to doubt his words and his promise. It was stupid and selfish, but Ahiru couldn't deny her own feelings. One day, he would have to leave her behind, if only for his own good. Ducks didn't even have very long lifespans, did they? She would only bring him grief in the end.

It was ironic, she thought, such dismal thoughts from someone who was supposed to be so overflowing with hope. If he had known what was on her mind, he probably would have been disappointed in her. And he'd call her an idiot - which he still often did, anyway. But he saved a certain little smile, a little quirk of his lips just for her, and fed her bread, petted her feathers...

Nothing like being held in his arms and able to hold him _back_. She couldn't even smile properly at him anymore. A duck's bill wasn't made for such things.

And it was over that time that Ahiru slowly began to realize that her affections for Fakir were much deeper than she originally thought - or perhaps they were growing, now that the two of them had a wall set between them. She did not think of Mytho as much on her days floating on the lake as she of the man on the dock with the feather quill and the sharp green eyes. She thought of his life and how lonely it would be when he left her or when she passed on and had to leave him. She thought of him finding a special girl and getting married and having children of his own and...

It was different from the way she had felt crushed when Mytho chose Rue. Somehow, she knew that was inevitable. Deep down, she had always known the truth. At the time, it hadn't made it easy to accept and she felt lost and insignificant.

Fakir saved her, then, when she was at her lowest point. When she thought she could no longer do anything for Mytho or the story or even returning the final piece of his heart. It was the once-knight that brought her strength and helped her to believe in herself. And he made her a promise that somehow made giving up everything else... all right.

Because in the end, Fakir would be there.

And then, thinking of him going on to have his own life that had nothing to do with her, finding his own happiness... unlike the way she could smile at Mytho and Rue and their new-found happiness, thinking of Fakir's future made her heart ache in a different way.

It felt like it was cracking - even on the verge of _shattering_.

He knew her better than anyone. He knew her true self and accepted her even when a duck was all she truly was. And she knew him and his flaws, as well. None of that could be said for her and Mytho. Her love for him... had it been more of an infatuation? She had seen his smile, at last, and it was brilliant, but...

Nothing warmed her like the arms of the boy down at the stream's edge. Even Fakir's smile, whether it was a full one or a slight quirk to the side of his lips, or even barely there for a moment at all... It was something that Ahiru always wanted to see. It made her feel lighter inside, and stronger, too.

That night, many months after the story's end, she first considered that her feelings for Fakir were somehow growing more and more with every day. And so was her despair at the inevitable separation.

Was she in love with him...?

With that thought, she'd drifted off to sleep amidst a patch of reeds and the chirping of crickets as her lullaby. She dreamed of being a girl again, of falling on her face and a familiar hand reaching down to help her up. He called her a moron, but with no actual insult to his voice, and she would laugh and take his hand and they would dance...

When she had awoken, it was due to the cold, of all things. It was late spring, though, and there was no reason for her to feel such a chill with all of her feathers-

At least, until Ahiru abruptly realized that she didn't _have_ feathers any longer. She had skin, she had long red hair that was drenched from the water and tangled in the weeds, she had legs that were longer than she remembered, a figure that was still small, and still not quite the same as she could remember from that time long ago...

Surely, she thought, she had to still be dreaming. How could she be a girl again? Fakir wouldn't write a story without telling her first. At least, she didn't _think_ so. And it wasn't the first time she had dreamed of being a girl again - she had several dreams like that, especially right after Drosselmeyer's story had been finished and put to rest. And this dream of being human, it was so simple and pleasant, and none of it added up at all!

No matter how many times she splashed her face with water and pinched her cheeks, though, Ahiru did not wake up and did not magically find herself small and covered in feathers once more. She remained cold and shivering in the shallow water, with a frog nearby that was giving her a most distrustful look.

And of all things to do then, the duck-turned-girl threw her head back and... _laughed_.

Perhaps she should have been worried, or at least concerned about what happened to her and why, but just thinking that she had crossed the barrier that seemed insurmountable... it made her happier than she had felt in a very long time. And Ahiru couldn't deny that large bubble of joy as it expanded within her.

Of course, following that, things had been very awkward and tense. She was quickly assured that Fakir had not written a story when he promptly freaked out upon finding her naked and shivering where the little duck would normally be sleeping. And while she had been too overcome with happiness at the change to worry about the whats and whys, Fakir had done enough worrying and fretting for the both of them.

Eventually, though, after a few weeks of no leads to what happened and no other weird side effects or strangers showing up to cause trouble or suck them into another story, Fakir had finally let the subject go. Not completely, of course - as he was still as alert and watchful of a young man as ever - but he let it rest enough that she was allowed to once again fully embrace her forgotten life as a human.

From there, everything was looking up. And the months passed even more quickly than when she had been a duck. Summer gave way to autumn, she re-enrolled in the Academy, joined her classes again, made both new and old friends...

It was on a very cold day in winter when he confessed to her. Somehow or another, she had convinced him to join her outside to play in the snow - though she did most of the playing, while he stood around with his hands deep in his pockets, just watching her frolic amidst the sea of white. Once she had a small sneezing fit, however, he chided her about the possibility of catching a cold and insisted they go inside at once. She had pouted, but followed him, nonetheless.

As much of a jerk as Fakir could be with calling her a moron or an idiot and constantly berating her for the things she did or being a klutz, his actions always spoke much louder than those words. So even as he called her a moron, he wrapped her shivering form in a thick wool blanket and settled her in front of the lit fireplace, and even as he lectured her about being more careful and dressing properly for the cold, he fixed her a hot cup of cocoa. Fakir's kindness was something he seemed to try to hide away with his words, more often than not, but Ahiru could see right through it by this point.

She smiled softly and voiced her earnest thanks, which immediately seemed to make his cheeks color as he hastily denied having done anything that needed thanks. And Ahiru could only giggle in response, sipping at the hot chocolate that warmed her from the inside out. The taste was sweet - and she almost wondered if he deliberately added a little more cocoa just for her, as he had come to know that she favored sweet things.

A silence had pressed on after that. Ahiru wasn't certain for how long. Fakir fixed himself some tea and he sipped at that while she sipped at her hot cocoa. And from one moment to the next, she had just randomly blurted out that he should come and share the blanket with her so he didn't catch a cold either. It was warmer where she was seated near the fireplace, after all.

Honestly, she had expected him to be adamant about being fine, as he would always say he was. Yet he stood there and stared at her for a few seconds, almost as if he was considering it. Blinking her blue eyes back at him, Ahiru had held the side of the blanket out invitingly, and to her surprise... Fakir actually placed his teacup down on the counter, came forward, and seated himself beside her, wrapping the other end of the blanket around his shoulders.

He said nothing. And Ahiru wasn't about to tease him or anything like that. Just having him near like that... it was a warmth that felt much better than the hot chocolate warming her hands. Almost unconsciously, she scooted a little closer to him, leaning against his arm and shoulder just the slightest bit-

And that was when his arm came from behind settled down on her shoulder. However, it was not to push her away or tell her that she was invading his personal space. Instead, it felt rather like he was rooting her into place there, leaning her weight against him.

"This is nice," she had said, the words slipping out almost underneath her breath. He didn't reply, but when she glanced up at him, she saw a small smile on his face. Again, that spoke louder than words really could.

They stayed like that for what could have been minutes, an hour... Ahiru didn't know. She was entranced by the flames flickering away before them, and completely relaxed and at ease just sitting there with his arm wrapped around her shoulder and settled together beneath the heavy wool blanket.

What happened after that was still enough to make her heart skip a beat, even all of these months later. Her hand, which had reached out for her locker, stilled on the handle as she recounted the recent past.

He'd said her name. That alone was a rarity when it came to Fakir and it had caught her attention easily, but when she looked up at him in question, he once again fell silent. Ahiru wasn't sure if she wanted to ruin the moment enough to push things, but as soon as she parted her lips, he spoke again.

_"Once upon a time..."_

And he told her a story. Not just any story, but one that was familiar, one that recounted events that already took place.

_Their _story, she realized. And he told her things she never realized or knew about before. When exactly he grew to trust her and why, how his feelings had changed, how he grew to want to protect her, how she inspired him to write, how dark the days were that he could no longer speak with her...

It was all worded simplistically, like a children's story, and yet so very clear. She almost forgot to keep breathing as she listened to him, intent on his every word.

He told her about his doubts, how he thought of writing about her but couldn't bring himself to do something he deemed selfish, how tired he was of the girls who gave him love letters, how his visits to the lake became more frequent, and longer, as though he couldn't stand to be parted from the little duck he'd made a very important promise to...

Ahiru didn't know at what point her heart started beating very fast. All this time, he had the opportunity to move on. There were girls who were interested in him. He could have dated any of them if he wanted to. And yet he came to the lake to see her, he stayed longer, he preferred spending time with _her_. It was a lot for her to soak in. She hadn't dared to let herself believe that things could be that way. He would want to be with humans more, he would want to get on with his life, and she wouldn't live very long, whether he kept his promise or not.

Swallowing, she had kept those thoughts to herself. What Fakir was telling her now... it was very important. And she wanted to grant him her full attention.

That's not the end of the story, he'd said, his voice thick with something she couldn't put a name to. The writer couldn't keep hiding his feelings. He feared that he would lose her, that something could go wrong, and he would regret it if she didn't know just how deeply he cared about her, no matter what form she was. How devoted he was to her, and...

How much he loved her.

Fakir had said it so softly that she could have missed it. If she had breathed at that moment, maybe she would have, but she hadn't - and those weren't words that she could misinterpret. With just a side-glance, she had seen him swallow. The words likely weren't easy for someone as closed off as him to say, even if he were putting it in a story.

Her blush was only intensified by the heat of the fire and the blanket and of _him_, but Ahiru couldn't leave her part unsaid at this point, either. This story, their story... she had a part in it, too. And while she couldn't put things as eloquently as Fakir could, now seemed like the right time to tell him just what happened before she changed back - just what and who she had been thinking about and the dream she had that very night.

She thought her heart would literally bust right out of her chest while she spoke. And dimly, she wondered if Fakir felt that way when he told her his story, as well.

Once her own words and truth were out, though, a tense silence seemed to wash over them both. They had both confessed, but the air felt heavy - _stifling_, even. Ahiru thought that she might suffocate.

And that was when Fakir unlatched his arm from around her, peeled the blanket back, stood up, and walked straight out of the room.

What to make of that, at the time, the redhead had no idea. She remained in place for a long while after he left, just staring at the spot he had been sitting in and his story and his words replaying in her head.

Had she interpreted something wrong? Maybe he meant he loved her as just a friend? Maybe he didn't really believe that she loved him too?

Ahiru didn't remember sleeping that night, though she had eventually gone to bed in the room Charon and Fakir had provided her with when she had changed back. And when morning came, she found herself filled with the sudden need to just... avoid Fakir. At every turn, at every _cost_.

It was ridiculous and childish, but after he left the night before without saying another word, she just felt way too nervous and uncertain to even think about facing him. Maybe the entire day had been dreamed up on her part, for all she knew. Though she felt so restless and tired at the same time that it seemed highly unlikely.

And Ahiru almost thought that their mutual confession from in front of the fireplace while sharing a wool blanket and enjoying each other's company was just going to dissolve into nothing as though it never happened. She was even prepared to face that possibility if it came to be.

However, her attempts to avoid Fakir only lasted until she was about to leave the house and head to the school. He'd caught her hand before she reached the door. And then he'd just blurted out right there that he meant everything he said and he was sorry for leaving her like that the night before. He explained that he hadn't been prepared for her to feel the same way - he'd even insisted to himself that it wasn't possible. And he'd been so overwhelmed that he had to get away and set himself straight.

He also said that what she told him made him happy. A happiness he said he didn't feel he deserved, but that he wanted, just the same.

It was a few days of awkwardness that followed after that before he actually asked her if she would like to date with him. Ahiru never thought that she would use the term "adorable" to describe Fakir, but sometimes when he got that shy look on his face, the word was just... perfect, somehow.

And that was how they started dating. It wasn't an overly flamboyant thing, by any means, but somehow, even just the first time they arrived at the Academy gates holding hands, the word spread like _wildfire_. It never ceased to amaze Ahiru just how quickly rumors or things could travel on school grounds. By lunch time the first day, she had already had to deal with numerous infuriated girls that thought she was too bad of a dancer and not pretty enough for Fakir, to overly-excited friends who wanted to hear all the details about _everything_.

They were apparently the 'big news' for some time. And in a way, Ahiru could understand why. He was one of the most - if not _the_ most - sought after young man at the Academy, who excelled at just about everything he did and had a very promising future. And she was the girl who had the poorest grades, could hardly walk straight without running into something, someone, or falling flat on her face, was not considered attractive, and in most people's opinion, did not suit Fakir at all.

She and Fakir were probably the most mismatched pair that Kinkan Academy had ever known.

At first, the issues that people had with her personally had bothered Ahiru more than she let on. She tried not to dwell on it, but the fact was that she was never a self-confident person. And she even started to wonder if she really _was_ good enough for Fakir. When she had told him of those thoughts, however, he'd called her an idiot on the spot.

It was also the first time he kissed her. The contact was sudden, but slow, long, and insistent, as though he wanted to drive her doubts away himself. He'd repeated the "idiot" sentiment again after he pulled back, but his voice was lower, his eyes half-lidded...

And instead of telling him not to call her an idiot, like she'd intended to, Ahiru had asked for him to kiss her again - which he followed through with before another sound could even escape her lips. It was a strange, warm, and very addicting mix of sensations. She didn't think she was doing it right, or even know if _he_ was, either, but the connection was too pleasant to deny.

Needless to say, after that, Ahiru didn't pay nearly as much attention to what other people said about her being wrong girl or unfit for Fakir. He had more than shown her that he was very interested in her and didn't care about what she was lacking or her giant list of flaws. Fakir liked her for being herself.

What more could she ask for?

Opening her little locker, Ahiru pulled out her ballet uniform and shoes and set them beside her. As much as she would like to spend more time reminiscing, she had already wasted a good deal of time.

And the very subject of her thoughts was the one who was waiting for her and likely already agitated with her tardiness. That was nothing new, really, but he _was_ taking special time out to help her with her practicing. They walked over here together from Charon's, but she didn't even have to wonder if he was ready or not. He would be waiting. And he would probably chastise her for taking her sweet time getting ready.

The window up above filtered in just a tiny bit of moonlight from the outside, not yet bright and lost in the inky colors of twilight. This was the most convenient time for Fakir's schedule when it came to helping her out with her dancing, but far be it from her to complain about the where or when. The Academy would be mostly empty at this time of night, anyway, so they were unlikely to have interruptions or unwanted giggling or jeering from the sidelines.

Swapping her school uniform for her leotard and ballet slippers, Ahiru pulled a clip out from a little bundle inside her locker and held it between her lips as she messily attempted to put her hair up. Usually, she would aim for putting it in a bun or a tied up braid, but there was no time for anything elaborate right now, so she settled for a rather sloppy hairdo that at least kept the majority of her large mass of hair out of her face.

That was the important thing, anyway. Most of this would just be trying to get her positions right and as elegant and seamless as possible.

...She still had to be at least a little crazy for even _thinking_ of trying out for Cinderella's part, though. Not only did the class think it was hilarious when she raised her hand as one of those interested, but even the instructor gave her a rather puzzled look.

Ahiru's dancing really hadn't improved very much over the time she had been a girl again. Her body was a bit older now by human standards, and it did help her balance and form at least a little bit, but it wasn't enough to make up for everything else that she lacked. Tutu's elegance and perfect form and beautiful dancing was long gone - and it never affected her as her normal, clumsy self, anyway.

That didn't mean she wasn't going to try her best, though. She _was_ serious about trying out for the part, even if she had little more than zero percent chance of actually getting it. Dancing was something she was passionate about and she did have the determination to improve.

And that was probably the reason that Fakir volunteered to help her out in the first place. He knew that her dancing left much to be desired, but he also understood that she felt strongly about ballet and expressing herself through dance. He was supportive, despite what she obviously lacked and the amount of work and practice that would need to be done before her dancing was even passable.

Finally, after she was certain that her shoes and her leotard (both given to her as a gift from Charon and Fakir) were on properly, she smoothed the latter out before she headed for the door to the girl's changing room and out into the hall. The trek over to the room they would be using for practice was short, but Ahiru found herself hesitating outside the door briefly.

She was more than aware that he wasn't going to be pleased with how long it took her to come here, but... she didn't really even have an excuse. Her head was in the clouds, as usual.

Shaking her head, she pushed the door open and entered. As expected, Fakir was already there, wearing his own black and blue dancing attire and leaning up against the mirror next to the barre. She could see his eyes flicker to her briefly as she walked in, just before he pulled away from his casual prop against the side.

"Save the excuses," he grumbled out before she could even open her mouth to start apologizing. "Let's just get started."

Still, by habit, she opened her mouth and then closed it, repeating the lip movement a few times. She wanted to apologize anyway, but it didn't seem as though Fakir would appreciate that, so she swallowed the words down.

Ahiru would just have to show him that her work ethic was strong - and that she was more than ready to learn.

Latching onto that thought, she made her way over to him and stood almost ramrod straight, like a soldier awaiting instructions from their superior. She almost thought she heard him snort as he rolled his eyes.

"Relax, idiot. I know you're taking this seriously, but don't be ridiculous." He gestured down to the floor. "Sit down and show me your stretches. Part of the lack of flow in your movement could be from improper warm-ups."

Letting the tension roll off of her shoulders, Ahiru nodded, lowering herself down to the floor. Then, with a brief glance up at him, she extended a leg out in an angle on either side of her. This was how she always started, as far back as she could remember. And most ballet students did, to her knowledge. Taking a breath, she leaned her weight to the side and bent her arms over her left leg until she reached her toes and held the position.

"Is this right?" she questioned, still keeping herself fully bent over her leg and taxing the muscles in her back, arms, and left leg at the same time.

She didn't actually hear him respond right away, but she did hear his light footfalls as he went to stand behind her. Pulling in a tight breath from the exertion, she prepared to ask again, but cut off on a sharp gasp when she felt his hands press into her back.

"Try to bend over a little further," he instructed, putting a little more pressure to the middle of her back. "It's going to ache a little, but that's good. That means you're pushing your limits. And the more you do that, the easier it will get to bend further and further to increase your flexibility."

From where she was still bent over her leg, Ahiru blinked at his words. He really... almost sounded like a teacher himself. She knew that he had a lot more knowledge about ballet than she did, but it was still surprising that he had such a solid understanding of how the body worked.

With his light press of insistence, she tried to force herself a little further, pausing only to take another preparatory breath before she arched her arms over, stretching her fingers a little further past her toes.

"Good," he appraised her, and she thought she could feel a slight rub of his fingers into the back of her leotard just before his hand completely darted away from her. "Now... try the same with the other."

...Was it just her, or did the pitch of his voice raise just a little when he said that?

Abruptly realizing that she had yet to follow through, Ahiru quickly straightened herself up before taking a deep breath and arching over her opposite leg. And as he told her, she pushed herself further, making a strained noise in the back of her throat from the tight stretch in her muscles.

"B-Better?" she questioned through an unsteady breath, holding her position for a few seconds before she pushed herself further. The burn was... definitely there.

"Hn, yes," he supplied shortly. And then she saw him kneel down next to her. "But your knee is bending up. You need to keep your leg straight."

Before she could respond, she felt his own hands settle down onto her knee and press it back down to the floor.

"Ah-!" The strain somehow increased tenfold with just that marginal change and she couldn't stop the little exclamation from escaping her. "That's...!"

"I told you, it's going to hurt a little. You'll get used to it, but it will take time."

"Mnn... How long do I have to-?"

"Keep going. A little longer."

"But it's-!"

"Hold it. Press out further if you can reach. _Try_."

"I _am_ trying! I-!" Her voice was growing frustrated, but the redhead really couldn't help it. This was just the first warm up and she could already feel a bead of sweat forming at the side of her forehead. She didn't think that warm-ups were supposed to be this hard!

"_Keep holding it_."

Still, he persisted in keeping her knee straight down and as flat against the floor as possible. The fingers of one of his hands felt like they were moving a little, though - moving downward and gripping just above her calf...?

Again, before she could even contemplate the change, his hands suddenly jumped away from all contact with her.

"We'll move on," he said hastily as he all but lurched to his feet and turned away from her, taking quick steps toward the barre. "Get up."

More than a little confused and a tad wary by this point, Ahiru stared at him for a long moment before she slowly lifted herself up to her feet. And gosh, just that alone and she could already feel the dull ache in her form from that one exercise. Would the other warm-ups be just as challenging and taxing on the body?

Slowly, she approached the barre where he waited, eying him a little oddly. Was he more annoyed with her lateness than he would admit? Or did she not push herself in the leg stretching to be satisfactory?

"Put one of your legs up on the barre. It doesn't matter which. You'll do both eventually." As he spoke, she noted that he barely glanced at her as he gestured toward the barre. And she felt the urge to ask what she had done to make him so irritated, but swallowed it down. She had to keep in mind that he was cutting into his own time to assist her with this.

Propping one foot up onto the barre, she turned to look at him, a lock of her hair falling free from the binds to dangle along the side of her face. "Now I stretch the other leg back like doing the splits, right? But I hold onto the barre so I don't fall?"

Finally, he turned to face her again, and crossed his arms stiffly. "No, not exactly." With just a brief note of what looked like hesitation, he took a hold of the ankle that was up on the barre and gripped it firmly. "You won't need to hold the barre like this. I'll make sure you don't fall. So just stretch back as far as you can."

Ahiru felt like her balance was going to make her fall over sideways _anyway_, but she did as she was told and stretched her legs out slowly. Already, she could feel a wobble in her back leg and she started to flail one arm, which only made her body rock from side to side even more. "Fakir! I can't-! I'm going to-!"

"You're _not_ going to fall," he stated vehemently, his grasp on her ankle tightening as he reached one of his arms back to rest his fingers on the small of her back to steady her. "I've got you. Just push your legs as far as you can. Tell me when you feel like you can't go any further."

Feeling more secure with his grasp around her middle, she gave a nod and slipped her leg back further and further and further...

"T...That's it! Ohithurts!" her voice whined out, blue eyes squeezing shut.

His fingers tensed a little around her back. "Now, just like before, I want you to bend your arms over to reach the toes of the leg I'm holding to the barre."

Ahiru had to catch her breath first, but she wasted no more time after that before doing as instructed and throwing her arms forward, trying to bend her back forward while her legs stretched apart wide on either side. If she thought the warm up on the floor had been taxing, this already had it beat by a landslide.

She was nothing if not persistent, however, so the redhead tried to ignore the ache and pain of her limbs as she reached with trembling fingers, gripping her toes and panting hard. "Is... is this...?"

"You can do better," his voice answered her as she felt the press of his fingers trying to urge her back to bend more. "This will help you in the long-run. _Keep going_."

Though his words weren't exactly encouraging, there was something compelling about the way he spoke. It made her want to press further, even when it hurt, even when her muscles were just _begging_ for a rest.

Fakir really was pushing her limitations as far as he could. And she really shouldn't have expected anything less for a dancer as dedicated and advanced as he was.

After what felt like forever, he let up on her at last, fingers releasing her ankle and coming to aid the other at her waist as he moved to straighten her. "You can pull your foot down from the barre now." And she did, all too glad for that to be over with. "Now. Switch your legs and do the same with the other."

"EH?!" Ahiru couldn't hope to stop the outburst as it flew right from her mouth, her eyes turning to look at him in shock. "But I just-!"

"I did say that you would do both eventually, didn't I?" One of his eyebrows raised in a manner that she almost swore was chastising.

Even if that did happen to slip her mind, Ahiru still wasn't pleased with the prospect of doing that over again. She puffed her cheeks out at him. "You could at least let me rest a little first!"

Fakir shrugged his shoulders. "You're the one who decided to keep me waiting. If you don't want to spend all night in here, then you'd best do what I tell you."

"_Fine_," she relented with a glare, rather childishly flopping her opposite foot up onto the barre.

"This is for your sake," he reminded her curtly, positioning himself on her opposite side to hold her ankle and around her back like before. She thought, for a bare moment, she could feel his fingers tremble in both places, but then they were firm once more. "And if you don't complete the warm ups properly, how do you expect to do anything else?"

"Okay, okay," she responded with a roll of her eyes, moving her back leg out until she winced. "I'll do it. I just didn't know it was gonna be _this_ hard."

"Just concentrate," he said, his fingers arcing in to press against her back once more. "Don't think about the pain. Think about the _goal_. Think of what you're trying to do and reach for that."

Taking his advice, Ahiru tried to do just that. She could definitely feel the strain as she swooped her arms forward and stretched them, but she pushed that to the back of her mind. She had to reach. At the end of that reach, she might have a chance at playing Cinderella. And even if she didn't get to dance that part, she would have given it her all and likely improved her dancing in the process.

"Good. That's good. You're doing better." She could barely hear his voice with how hard she was focusing. Yet she could feel the warmth of his fingers as clear as day. In fact, that's how she noted that the hand at her back was trailing down, moving until the fingers gripped at... her rear?

"Yes. Keep going... You're... you're getting it." His tone was sounding breathier than before. And his digits weren't moving from her backside. Instead, they only clenched further into the soft flesh, making a dose of heat run straight to her face.

It wasn't as though she and Fakir never danced together - far from it. He even put up with her incredibly poor form and clumsy steps and turns, just for the sake of moving with her and supporting her.

As far as she could remember in these past few months, though, his hands didn't really wander. She couldn't remember any other instance where he pressed a hand right around one cheek of her rear. And he was quite clearly doing that now.

Ahiru wasn't sure what to do or what to think, but her heart was starting to beat faster. And it was definitely from more than just the taxing of her muscles.

"F... Fakir..." her voice was small - meek almost.

"H-Hn..." She could feel his side pressing into her own now, and she became dimly aware that he was panting. Now that he was closer, she could hear the sounds of those breaths.

"Are you..."

The words couldn't finish. She lifted her head and her back from arching forward, her eyes raising to look at his reflection in the mirror in front of them. She could see the redness to his face immediately. And as if sensing that she was watching him through the mirror surface, his green eyes lifted and met hers.

What happened next felt like it was too fast to follow, and yet almost in slow motion view before her as she watched his reflection move, his fingers around her ankle flexing as he angled his torso forward and his neck around to face her just before his mouth pressed right into hers. And in that very instant that the contact was made, fire shot up and down her spine. His kiss was hot and almost felt like what she could only describe as _desperate_.

Somehow, the thoughts that this was not the time to be kissing and she should be practicing and getting better didn't occur to her. With just that heated press of his lips and mouth over her own and the squeeze of his fingers into her soft flesh, she felt a different kind of ache come to life in her.

His kiss was eager. And while the action was not new to be shared between them, Ahiru couldn't remember a time that it had felt quite this passionate from the start. And it seemed odd that he would choose to kiss her _here_, especially when he was aiming to teach and tutor her in ballet.

It was happening, though. He wasn't even pulling away quickly afterward with a muttered apology or - well, he wasn't pulling away at _all_. And as the seconds passed, she was starting to drown more and more into the connection. The wet heat of his mouth was compelling her and making her knees weak even in the strain that her legs were still spread into.

Ahiru didn't know how long it was until he finally released her lips - lips that were now even swollen with the sheer intensity in which he had kissed her. She wanted to search for words and ask him what that was about and why his fingers were still on her backside, but looking into his half-lidded green gaze just obliterated all of those thoughts on the spot.

"Let's... continue," he broke through the silence with soft, but heavy words, his breath noticeably labored.

Ahiru blinked back at him, her own intakes of air still uneven as she tried tried to remember just what she was focused on before he stole her breath away.

...Practice. That's right. She was practicing her basic warm-ups. And he was helping her...

Why did her head still feel like it was spinning off of its hinges?

Through the reflective surface of the mirror, she saw him move, his hand finally leaving her rear and instead circling about her waist as he moved to stand more directly behind her. One of his hands took hold of her still-extended leg - just above her knee - and started to lift it. "Grab a hold of the barre," he instructed through a rather husky tone. "Grab it... with both hands. Don't let go until I tell you."

A little shakily, Ahiru did as he said, letting her other foot slide down to the floor and leaning both arms over to the grip the barre with her hands. She actually had to take a few breaths before she could respond, "Like... this?"

Though he didn't supply anything verbally, his touch felt like fire in her skin as he slowly lifted her leg higher and higher behind her, extending the limb fully. Suddenly, she wished she had taken the time to put her tights on, as well. Having his fingers pressing into her bare skin was...

"Stretch it out," his voice broke through her thoughts, the hand around her waist disengaging and joining the other to hold her leg up high. "Keep pushing back and lift it as high... as you can."

His voice was just as compelling as the heat of his fingertips gripping into her skin. And maybe she should have rather been thinking that he was taking time out to assist her with warm-ups and form and everything in-between and she should do her best for _that_ reason, but...

It was a bit more than that, now, whether she wanted it to be or not. Something about the way he touched her and held her and moved her body into place was heating her inside as much as his most intense of kisses.

Ahiru extended the limb as far as she could manage, feeling the burn in her muscles just as much as where his digits melded in to grasp her leg. Lifting was a little more difficult and pain-inducing, but he was already wordlessly helping her with that, his own pressure beneath her leg forcing it just a little higher.

Then, he simply held her leg up like that for a brief time, and the silence around them was so heavy that she could clearly hear his breath coming out in pants behind her. And it made a strange, tingling and fluttery feeling enter the area of her stomach, even through the aching strain that was put upon her with the uncomfortable positioning.

Fakir shifted, then, moving to the side of her leg and sliding his fingers a little, but otherwise leaving them in place. "I'm going to lower your leg a bit now," he informed her, and she could feel his words let out against her bare skin. "Keep pushing back... force your extension _further_... and curl your foot - arch your toes out to reach..."

"F... Fakir..!" her voice released in almost a whimper. While he spoke those words, she felt his breath at the back of her knee, his nose brushing the tender underside of her leg just above that...

Was he trying to break her concentration _completely_ while making more and more demands?

"Do it," he spoke with a firm insistence, sounding as though he was speaking through clenched teeth. "Don't pay mind to me - _just do what I tell you_."

Ahiru clenched her own eyes closed, her leg twitching marginally in his tight grasp. "O... Okay, I'll..." She pushed back as far as she could exert, trying to curl her toes in the way he instructed her to.

"_Wah_! Ahh...!" The abrupt exclamation from her lips couldn't possibly be stopped - not when she felt something warm and wet slide up along the side of her extended leg.

That... that had to be...! But why - how - he was - how was she supposed to - he _never_-!

Not a single thought could finish forming in her racing mind. The tingling heat in her abdomen swelled and constricted, leaving her to fight back a whine as her leg quivered in his grip. Her hands all but held to the barre for dear life. And his tongue just kept _moving up_-!

"Nmm! _Ha_aah-!"

"H-Hold it. Now lift... higher." His breath fanned over the slick trails he left on her skin, making her arms flex in as she tried to keep a grip on herself from the shudders that were sent down her spine.

No matter how unreal the situation was, though, Ahiru couldn't stop following through with his instructions. He said not to pay him any mind. _That_ was probably impossible, but she still couldn't just give up or just cease on the spot. Maybe he was even distracting her on purpose, as completely off-the-wall as his methods were.

...Not that Fakir had _ever_ done anything like this. She really didn't know what to make of it.

In a way, though, it was almost a little... exciting. Fakir was often so reserved and wasn't one for showing a lot of affection. They kissed frequently enough, but he was not one to prolong those intimate moments. At times, she thought he even seemed _afraid_ to, as odd as it sounded.

And now he was being incredibly open in ways that she couldn't even add up properly in her head. He seemed to want to touch her almost excessively, going so far now as to brush his face and his _tongue_ along the back of her leg. Ahiru was not so certain that she wanted this to end.

What else would he show her?

"_Higher_," his voice sliced into her thoughts. She could feel his fingers clench a little more into her flesh, his hot cheek pressed against the side of her leg. "Don't slack."

Her hands clasped the barre even harder as she braced herself against it, trying to make her leg ascend a little further, even with him holding and pressed against it. The movement was much harder than it sounded and she thought her muscles were going to...!

"E...nough."

In one bare moment, her leg was all but dropped and the strain was dispersed, leaving the slight throb of an ache in its wake, but nothing more. Ahiru, however, was left almost gasping for breath. And it was more than just the exertion she was putting forth. Just how, she couldn't exactly pin-point, but there was something else about that heat that spread further than just the limbs she was pushing to the limits.

"Stand up straight," he spoke as she felt a nudge to her back. "It's time to move... on."

He still sounded as though he had the wind knocked out of him, Ahiru thought, but he hadn't been the one putting forth effort to hold difficult and strenuous positions. It didn't make sense to her. Why would _he_ be short of breath?

With another press into the small of her back, the redhead released a small squeak-like noise as she hurriedly tried to fix herself into an acceptable standing position with decent posture. Yet, when she had straightened herself to stand without slouching, she felt his hands grip either of her shoulders and swiftly turn her around to face him.

And then, he merely stared down at her. It was a manner of staring that didn't seem uncommon for Fakir - it was intense, almost as though he were holding back an imminent scolding for something that got on his nerves. And yet... there was another nuance to it. There was something in those green eyes that was penetrating her in a way that wasn't with anger or even a thin-veiled annoyance. She felt oddly exposed under such a gaze and darted her blue eyes away, clearing her throat.

"So what's ne-"

"Look at me." The command was simple, but firm, and even if she hadn't swiveled her eyes back up to him, he had taken hold of her chin with one hand, directing her to face him. "This is important, so listen."

Ahiru gave a stiff nod - or as much of one as she could give when he was grasping her chin in his fingers. And she thought she saw his jaw and lips tighten before he swallowed, almost as if he wasn't sure about what he was going to say. He claimed it was important, though, and she was going to give him her full attention.

"If..." He paused after that single word, and closed and opened his mouth once before he leaned in close to her face - close enough that she felt a little bit of heat rise in her cheeks. "If you want to stop the lesson, for any reason, all you have to do is say so. Understand?"

Given the manner that he spoke, Ahiru didn't think it was really that simple. He meant something by those words, which were almost issued like a warning, but she didn't know _what_. A little frustrated, she nodded. With those words at surface value, she already knew that. If she was really in pain and really couldn't take it, if she told him to stop, he would. Fakir might have pushed her to do better and tested her limits, but he didn't do so to actually hurt or injure her.

She watched his shoulders raise with a breath before he released it in an exhale through his nose. "...Good. Now, I want you to do the basic positions, starting with the first. I'll tell you when to move on."

With that, he suddenly spun her right back around again, pulling a startled sound from her as she nearly stumbled. He caught her, however, with a hand on her waist, and settled her back into a proper standing posture once more. Instead of moving his hand, however, he left it upon her waist. His warmth was almost distracting...

"First position."

"O-Oh! Right!" Ahiru hurriedly tucked her heels in together with toes facing out at an angle. Then, she arched her arms down in front of her as evenly as she could, bent at the elbows, but not too rigid.

She barely finished adjusting herself before he sounded from behind her, "Fix your arms and make the bend more natural. Your elbows are sticking out too far."

As she moved to correct her mistake, she felt his other hand join the first, holding her securely around the waist. His thumbs seemed to be moving against the fabric - just lightly. "Is this... is this better?"

"...Yes," he said, and she felt a shiver race through her. He'd spoken right into the curve of her ear and his breath was hot against it. "Now, move to second position. Make your movements as smooth as possible in the transition."

It wasn't easy for Ahiru to be smooth in anything even at the _best _of times, but when he was breathing those instructions right into her ear like that... her legs almost felt shaky and unhinged. And they _were_ rather unsteady as she spread her legs and arms simultaneously, fighting down a whimper that wanted to climb free of her throat. She was around Fakir a lot, but being near him usually didn't make her feel like this. They even danced together plenty of times without her feeling like her legs were going to collapse from beneath her weight at any moment.

Why was this so... so _different_? He could probably even hear her heart pounding!

"That... was not smooth at all, moron," he chided. And before she could move to repeat the motions, she gave a loud yelp as his teeth nipped at the corner of her ear. "Back to first position. Do it _again_."

"I... I...!" Slowly, she did as she was told, swallowing down the lump that was growing in her throat as she switched back to first and slid into second once more. Her ear felt like it was _burning_. Since when did he ever _bite_ her for screwing something up?

And it somehow only fed the heat that was collecting in her middle. How was she going to manage to keep concentrating and do this the right way when he did things like _that_?

"Again."

"But I already-_wauuuh_!" Her protest was cut off sharply when she felt his hands move up from her waist and abruptly grab either side of her small chest.

"_Again_," he repeated, with even more force in the low pitch of his voice. And he gave her breasts another squeeze simultaneously. Heat flooded into her face like never before. His hands were... he was touching her...!

"F-f-fakir?" she sputtered out, trying to move her feet and arms, but finding it impossible not to return to the fact that _his hands were on her chest_. She could see it plain as day, right in the mirror in front of them, where her own wide eyes were reflecting back at her. And slowly, she felt him begin to massage the soft flesh with his hands, every action apparent right before her in the reflective surface.

"Remember what I said? If you want to stop the lesson..."

"No!" she nearly shouted, and she could even feel him jerk in surprise from behind her with that outburst. The word pealed right out of her lips without her even thinking about it. And that in itself wasn't uncommon for her - she blurted a lot of things out - but she realized that the pressure of his fingers _there_... she didn't want him to move his hands.

"S-Sorry," she finally stammered out, moving herself back into first position. Every expanding movement from each breath she took only pushed her small mounds further against his hands. And she could see it all just as much as she could feel it. "I'll keep trying..."

And she following through, taking a long, shuddering breath before she attempted to ease herself back into the second position, sliding her legs out and raising her arms just so. Once she had moved into place, she held it, waiting for what she thought would be the inevitable "again".

"That's better," he praised, once again leaning directly in toward her ear, his breath caressing the contours of the appendage in a way that made her want to jump and melt at the exact same time. And all the while, his hands didn't move from where their digits were rubbing and fondling her breasts above the stretchy material of her leotard. "On to third."

Ahiru had to close her eyes briefly, a strange noise passing by her parted and panting lips. Going through the basic positions of ballet was usually simple, but now it was beyond complicated and challenging. And that was all because of the way that Fakir was touching her as she moved through them. She had been so transfixed by the mirror image of him... of him grabbing her there and pressing his fingers into...

It was inappropriate - the duck-girl knew that much. Classes were even warned not to make their partners uncomfortable or touch them in places that would bring such discomfort or cross "the line".

Of course, Fakir wasn't just any partner - he was her boyfriend and the man she trusted with her life. And that made all the difference to Ahiru. If he wanted to touch her, if he wanted to be this open with her... it felt good, anyway, so why should she stop it?

Her transition to third position was what she felt the most confident in so far. Only one arm had to bend back into what was first position, and the legs crossed far enough that the heel of the right foot was placed in front of the middle of the left foot. It was what she believed to be her best attempt so far. The movement in the mirror didn't appear to be as wobbly this time.

"Hn, I'll let that one pass." Fakir's voice issued this time from a little lower than her ear - she couldn't even see exactly where his face was in the mirror. And following that, she felt his warm lips press into the back of her neck, which made goosebumps suddenly form along her arms from the action. His hands still persisted in toying with her breasts and the area around them, as well, smoothing and rubbing over her leotard and making her skin feel incredibly warm. "Next, move fully to fourth and then go straight to fifth."

Ahiru prepared herself to do just that, adjusting her feet first, to slide just a little more one in front of the other. When she moved her arms, however, she felt him give one last constriction of his fingers over her mounds before he abandoned them and instead brushed his hands along her arms as she raised them into place, one in front of her at a level just below her bust, the other in an arch above her head. And once she found herself in fourth position, she raised her right arm to join the other up in the air to form almost a closed oval shape, with hands facing inward but not quite touching.

It was quite a picture to behold - not because she looked especially graceful or anything, but because of the way his form fit from behind her, the tanned skin of his hands standing out in stark contrast to her paler arms. She had never appreciated how the basic positions looked in this manner before.

"Hm," was the only noise her stand-in instructor provided. Then his hands moved to lightly run up along the full shape her arms created, almost agonizingly slowly. "Your form is improving, but you'll need a lot of practice to ease into these positions and others more naturally."

And his fingers slid down, down, down, until they smoothed past her underarms and sides, resting just along her hips to knead with his fingertips. His mouth moved to her neck once more, eliciting a gasp from her as he ran his tongue and teeth across the expanse that connected her neck to her shoulder. His breath was heavy and hot upon her flesh.

"Ahh... Fakir, I-!" Her neck craned helplessly to his ministration, breaking her view of it in the mirror as a whimper fell from her lips.

"God damn, you are making this so hard when you're so irresistible..." he mumbled the words out against her skin, licking and kissing and lavishing attentions upon the bared area of her upper back and shoulder. "I don't know how much... _longer_ I can take it."

"What do you m-mean?" Her heart felt like it was going to burst. Fakir never said things like that to her before. She wasn't sure if she should take it as a compliment or if she was even registering his words properly or... or anything!

The question was met with silence, however, which was only broken with their own erratic breathing patterns. He slowly pulled her arms back down again, until they rested on either side of her, and kept the limbs in his grasp, holding her just above the wrists.

"Your forward flexibility needs work," he suddenly supplied in an abrupt change of subject. And she could almost _feel_ his eyes running over her form from behind. "Bend forward. As far as you can. And keep your legs _straight_."

There was a definite impatience to his commanding tone that made Ahiru instantly hunch herself over to follow through. And he never let go of her arms, his fingers only securing further to pull her arms back behind her and hold her up as she bent down. Already, she could feel the burn in her muscles. And... was that...

The area between her legs felt... damp. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Further," he ordered, moving his own body up behind her until she felt the press of something stiff into her backside. "Don't play it safe. _Push_ yourself...!"

The moment those words left his lips, he jerked right into her rear end, causing her to yelp and launch herself forward simultaneously. And with his unflagging grasp on her arms, she only did as she was supposed to, and bent her back more.

"_Yes_," he hissed out in approval, bucking into her in a way that made it difficult for her even see straight. And she thought she felt the bulging hardness thumping against her backside _throb_ against the soft flesh. "Like that. _Just_ like that...!"

"Ahhn! Hahhhnn!" Ahiru could feel the sweat running down her brow, a drop sliding all the way down her cheek and to her chin. She pressed forward as much as she could, bending her back down and indirectly rubbing her rear up against the enthusiastic motions he was engaging in from behind her.

In her current positioning, she could only see their feet in the mirror, and the lower part of their legs. Yet even that was somehow enough to make her feel a great deal warmer, just from the way his feet adjusted and his legs jerked just slightly when she felt the impact of his hips and groin to her backside. These movements weren't even ballet and there was nothing particularly graceful or elegant about it, but... every rubbing motion of the front of his tights to her rear, every groan that he released, every slice of red-hot heat that coursed through her...

Inexplicably, she couldn't get enough of the motions and of what they were awakening in her body. And judging by the lack of control in his actions as he rubbed himself shamelessly against her from behind - when before now, he would barely linger with any close touches upon her - Fakir might have been experiencing something similar.

"Ahiru..." his voice broke through their pants and gasps, but never once did he stop moving against her. "I can't...ngh! I can't keep hiding this. I need to... I need to _be_ with you, dammit..."

Her clouded mind couldn't make much sense out of what he was saying - after all, he _was_ with her, right? They had been dating for months. And she wanted to ask him about what he was hiding from her, but... there was something else that took precedence in her mind. _She_ was definitely feeling things, as well. "I need..." Ahiru started, licking her lips and gasping out sharply on a particularly jarring movement from behind her, "-_more_ of this. Fakir...! It's so hot! I can barely even-!"

What she was referring to exactly, she wasn't sure, but she had the feeling that it would make sense to Fakir. He would know what to do. He would make that ache go away, somehow. Ahiru was just unquestionably certain of it.

"I-Idiot," he strained out tightly, finally slowing his movements against her until he was all but hunched over her bent back. His hands released her arms and dove in immediately to glide up and down her sides. "I still promised I would help you improve. And I can manage _both_, dammit-!"

With that, he lurched back up and took her with him, reinstating his hold on her waist. Then he nudged her forward toward the barre again, letting her blue eyes watch the mirror image until he had her all but pressed against the wooden beam. From what she could see in the reflection, he looked tense - or stressed? - and his face was tinged with red.

Something about that image of him, though, was... very attractive. Ahiru couldn't explain just why that was. Maybe it was the slight dampness to his brow that made a couple locks of hair stick to it, maybe it was the way his green eyes seemed to be drinking her in like _never_ before, or maybe she was really just seeing him in a different light due to how unhinged _she_ was feeling.

Her view of him in the mirror was cut short when he took hold of her shoulders and swiftly flipped her around to face him. Instead of seeing everything reflected back at her through the glass surface now, she saw the true features directly on his face in front of her. And that was inexplicably even _more_ intense to behold.

"Fakir..." she breathed his name out softly, one hand raising up to press her palm against his chest. And she was so drawn into his warmth, his scent, the very beating of his heart beneath her fingertips...

Before she could even contemplate anything else, his mouth was suddenly covering her own, fingers toying with a few stray locks of hair at the back of her neck that had fallen free during her warm-up session. The surge of heat up through her body was almost instantaneous - and it only grew further the more his lips searched and prodded at her own. He kissed her strongly and firmly, and in such a way that she couldn't possibly mistake just how much he enjoyed the mouth-to-mouth contact.

Ahiru was starting to feel rather dizzy, to be honest. So much was changing and shifting between them at once and it really was overwhelming her in many different and startling ways. It felt like they were on a tight thread, the line being pulled and tested both cautiously and eagerly beneath their feet.

And she was almost afraid that the ground underneath her would cave or collapse or disappear at any moment. Fakir always made her feel special and loved and like something precious that he wanted to protect at all costs, but she never felt a desire from him this _raw_ before. It was thrilling and suffocating and intriguing all at once.

It wasn't long before his fingers started to roam, brushing her arms, kneading her sides, pressing and touching and building the heat that was already invading her form. And her own fingers had almost begun stroking over his lightly-clothed chest of their own accord, fingertips indenting the stretching cloth and rubbing with both curiosity and a thinly-veiled need.

In the next moment, she felt herself being pushed back until the small of her back hit the barre. And even then, he never let up on her for a single moment, swallowing her gasp before it could even sneak out from the side of her lips.

"Stay-" he spoke between the wet noises he made against her mouth. "Like that. I need-to..."

He didn't explain further, but she felt him pull back on a heavy breath. His hands left her leotard, only to dart up and undo the tie at the front of the blue cloth he wore over his chest. In a few short seconds, he had it undone and shrugged off carelessly, kicking it a little ways away with his foot. And Ahiru felt the heat in her expand further when he was dressed in his black tights before her and sporting a bit of a bulge in the front.

Before she could really form any words, his hands were reaching right back for her and-

"Ehhhh!?" she exclaimed in sudden alarm.

His hands were tugging at the top of the stretchy material of her leotard and pulling it down over her shoulders, exposing more and more skin and making her face flush darkly. Was he undressing her!?

"Before-" he started, having to pause and clench his teeth as the tight fabric gave resistance. She could easily sense his frustration and impatience from the way he yanked at it. "Before we... can start - the actual _lesson_... this-needs... to come _off_."

"I-i-it does?" she squeaked, growing redder with every inch of her flesh revealed. "B-b-but-!"

She was silenced the moment his eyes darted up from the task and all but burned into her own. He stared at her for a long moment before he parted his lips. "...Remember what I told you."

The embarrassment clouded her mind enough that she had to think for a moment, but it came quickly. If she wanted him to stop...

No, she _didn't_ want him to stop. That was the last thing she wanted right now, even if her feelings were a bit of a jumbled mess. She might not feel comfortable without clothes or feathers, but... but this was Fakir. And she trusted him and if he wanted to instruct her without them, then... then...

"O...okay..."

He looked into her eyes for a moment longer, as if trying to assess if there was any doubt there, but then he let his breath out through his nose. Instead of replying, though, he leaned right back in and crushed his lips to hers just as he gave a rough yank on her leotard, pulling her arms free of it and letting the elastic fabric bunched down at her waist.

Ahiru could feel the air on her heated skin, making her shiver with a small noise against his mouth. And that sound quickly turned more high-pitched when his hands suddenly grasped her bared chest, one mound in either hand and gripping with fervor and unmasked enthusiasm. His groan against her lips sent a hot tingle straight down her spine.

Slowly, it was as if he was working away her embarrassment and hesitations, assuring her through actions that she was more than enough for him and that she had nothing to worry about. And with how inexplicably _good_ it felt to be handled by him this way, Ahiru couldn't even think of protesting. She might have been a bit small, she might not be much of anything like Princess Tutu, but... when did any of that ever matter to Fakir? Why would it matter now?

True, he had never touched her in this manner. Until this practice session, he never made many advances on her - not beyond the typical things that came with dating like holding hands and kissing. But now, she felt like he was unraveling right before her eyes, like something in him had actually been _holding back_.

Fakir made it hard for her to process thoughts when his hands were touching her virtually everywhere that he could reach, though. He kneaded her breasts, he stroked the undersides of the springy flesh, he caressed the plane of her stomach, he rolled his thumbs into her sides...

She felt overwhelmed by the pure _sensation_ of everything that flooding through her. It didn't even register to her right away that his lips had released hers, letting her pant openly as they trailed down and left hot, wet presses into her neck and down to her hollow of her collarbone.

"You... damn - I can't... even control..." she felt him husk his words against the skin he had just been sucking on, licking at her in-between each one.

And she arched - she arched back against the barre and gripped it with her hands as she breathed out his name on a pant as she shuddered and-

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled his head away from her. Ahiru was left blinking hazily for a moment, his hands having stilled - aside from the slightest of quakes from his fingers. And he glanced up to face her, looking at her from behind a few dark, sweat-matted bangs.

"Prepare yourself."

That was all the warning he gave her before he abruptly pulled her leotard down the rest of the way, taking her undergarment right off with the stretchy outfit and letting it all slide fully down to the floor and bundle in a small heap at her feet. And before she could even release a squeal, he was grabbing at her middle and hefting her to sit right on top of the barre, her back to the mirror.

"F-Fakir!?" Her cheeks must have been cherry red with the blood she felt rushing into her face. She... she was naked! And he wasn't looking away! And she was in the practice room and sitting on the barre and...!

But then, his hands had retreated to his own clothing, and he stepped back as he pulled himself free of it in an even more brash and desperate manner than he had with hers. She watched, almost mesmerized as his features contorted and he all but hissed as he pulled something out of the black tights bunched at his middle. That something was connected to him - flesh she had never seen before. And without being crammed into his clothing, it stood up without any further assistance, almost as if straining toward her.

He didn't give her much time to watch, however. Almost immediately, he closed the distance between them, leaning in to rest his forehead firmly to hers and capture her gaze effortlessly. She could feel the heaviness of his breaths on her lips, making her heart skip beats at intervals that she couldn't even hope to keep track of.

"Your lesson... is about to get more intense," he finally spoke, his voice low and rumbling. She could almost _feel_ his chest heaving. "Are you ready?"

Her mouth worked soundlessly, trying to find words and failing. She didn't know what to expect, but there was an ache down below - one that only increased to an almost extreme when he spread her legs on the barre, her back squeaking slightly against the mirrored surface behind her. What that feeling meant, she didn't know, but she didn't want to start rambling out questions. And she didn't think she had the extra breath to even _do_ that, anyway.

Shifting on the barre with a whimper and her arms trembling as she held the wood, Ahiru could only gasp out, "Yes...!"

He moved - she couldn't see it, but she could definitely feel it when the tip of his hardness met that burning ache between her legs. "Aaaah! F-Fakir, I...!"

The corner of his lips quirked just the slightest bit, but it was quick to fade as he put pressure into holding her thighs up on either side and tucked himself up against her wet entrance. His groan was deep and she saw his eyes close for the briefest of moments before he was staring her down again.

"This is going to hurt." The words were simple and direct, and Ahiru instinctively braced herself. Stretching and taxing her muscles had been a bit painful, too, but with the tone of his voice, she knew that this was going to be something off of that scale completely.

And it _was_.

The very next second, he grunted and heaved himself right into her, his length burying itself up inside of her in one swift thrust. And the pain she felt was all but instantaneous, roaring up through her like a fire that throbbed with a pulse of its own and inflamed her insides. Something inside of her had put up a vague resistence, she thought, but then there was that sharp hurt and suddenly, it was all she knew.

"Just wait," he spoke, his voice softer than before and his thumbs soothing the heated skin of her thighs while caressing in slow circles as he held himself still, not pushing in or out after the initial penetration. "It will get better."

Ahiru believed him. As intense as the pain was, she could feel her inner muscles working to adjust as she whimpered into him, moisture building along the corners of her eyes. And as he continued his stroking motions upon her legs with the pads of his thumbs, he angled his head down to capture her lips once again.

This time, the contact was slow and sensual, his mouth pressing and pulling at the softness of her lips and distracting her from the pains below. The slow burn was addictive and she felt herself responding, tasting him and making the throbbing sensation dull further and further with every press and every gasped breath. He was coaxing her - urging her to submit to these pleasures rather than focus on anything unpleasant - and it was working. On one particularly deep intake of breath between kisses, she felt the wet pressure of his tongue prod between her lips and slip its way inside, sliding along her own in eager greeting.

The sensations were heady. She felt that haze lowering down over her again, filled with heat and making it harder to breathe - harder to _think_. And he made a low noise into her mouth that made something inside of her quiver just as much as her arms did where they held tight to the barre on either side.

Distantly, the redhead wondered why it was that Fakir never kissed her quite like this before, or with that intensity he had prior, too. Was it because he was feeling as drowned in these new sensations as she was? Could it be something else entirely...?

More and more thoughts formed and dissolved just a quickly and she let a moan raise up from within and meld into their connection. She could feel the force on his end becoming a bit more pronounced as the seconds passed, pushing her back further into the mirror behind her as he released a groan into her lips.

And then, panting lightly, he pulled back, eyes half-lidded as he stared into her with those green, green eyes. "Does it still hurt?"

Ahiru blinked slowly. She opened her mouth as if to ask what was supposed to be hurting, but stopped herself short as she remembered what he had been taking her attention away from in the first place. And the sharp pain from before was now no more than a dull pulse. Shifting her hips and making the barre creak a little in the process, she looked back at him and shook her head. "It's... it's better now. I don't feel as - it's... _ahh_-!"

She cut off when he retracted himself from inside of her partway before sliding right back in again. Her eyelashes fluttered from the tingles of pleasure that rippled from below.

"G...ood," he responded through another stroke, and she could feel him throb inside of her as he grunted in a breath against her face. "Now... we can... start."

There was no time for Ahiru to ask what he meant. In the next moment, he began a steady pace, rolling his hips into hers and pulling back and repeating. And his fingers that had been stroking the flesh of her thighs dug in to grip the skin, making her yelp as she leaned back against the mirror for support.

To her astonishment, it felt... _incredible_. She couldn't even really put what she was feeling into proper words. It was nothing like the pain had been at all! The floods of heat were rising in her body and churning and he was _filling_ her so much with every thrust and...!

"Don't slouch!" he suddenly barked out, his brows drawn together. "Back... straight! Hold your - _posture_!"

With a whine, Ahiru yanked her form upright with her dual grip on the barre as he continued to move his length in and out, trying to hold herself as steady as she could manage when he jerked her body on every motion. Her knuckles had turned white where they grasped the wood and she bit into her bottom lip, determined to follow through with his expectations.

But he didn't stop there.

"Shoulders back-!" he commanded on a particularly rough push. And he hastened to meet the requirements, spreading her hands a little further down the barre to help accommodate the positioning. She could feel her small breasts bouncing in the upright position, staggering with his thrusts and her uneven breaths.

"Better," he grunted out, driving his throbbing shaft into her hard enough to make the barre shake on its hinges. "Now..."

He didn't continue with his instructions just yet, however. From the sweat that she could see in a sheen along the side of his face, this was turning out to be a work out for him, as well. His eyes met hers briefly, darkened and simmering, just before he dove down and took the pert nipple of her left breast into his mouth, sucking and tugging the small hardened peak with his lips and teeth. And not for a moment did he cease his movements down below.

"ANGH! Ohh-!" she cried out with abandon, still trying to hold herself up level as shocks found their way through to every nerve inside of her. She could feel his fingers just _clench_ into the skin of her legs in response.

Swathing his tongue around the reddened nipple, he spoke in a hot rush of air against her skin, "Arch your back - extend your right leg!"

The words were barely out before he resumed sucking roughly upon the small mound, but Ahiru was quick to follow through, pushing her shoulders back even further and making her naked torso arch - and indirectly pressing the flouncing flesh up even closer to his busy mouth. Her leg shot out blindly as she struggled to keep her grip on the barre with her sweating palms. And she could _feel_ the pleased noise he made against the soft flesh, reverberating straight through her to the point that she squeaked out his name.

That brought so strong of a thrust from Fakir that Ahiru wasn't at all prepared for the sheer power behind it. With a startled cry escaping her throat, her back collided against the mirror and her leg fell out of its extension to curl in and try to keep her body upright.

With a wet sound, he released her breast and straightened himself, gritting his teeth and abandoning one of her legs to reach behind her and pull her away from the reflective surface she had crashed against. He only met her eyes for a bare second, but the wild luster in them caught her off-guard even more than his sudden ram between her legs had.

"_Again_! Straight up, extend both legs!" On each successive word, his voice became even more insistent, until he finally snapped, "_**Do it**_, dammit!"

Ahiru could do nothing follow through. In the past, she disliked when Fakir would take on that bossy, you-better-listen-to-me kind of tone. But right now... it was fueling whatever it was that was burning and growing inside of her. And somewhere in the reaches of her mind, she could recall that this all started because she was supposed to be practicing - and he had taken the time to assist her.

"Curve your... _feet_, idiot! Point your toes-!"

She struggled, her legs shaking where she had extended them into a wide v-shape on either side of him. The only reason her back wasn't hitting the mirror repeatedly any longer with his slamming thrusts between her legs was only because of the tight support of his fingers at the small of her back. Every muscle in her body was straining and aching and yet the duck-turned-girl couldn't deny that she felt adrenaline coursing through her along with every spike of heat, urging her on as much as the words of the man inside of her.

"D-damn, you are so... damn _tight_!"

All that she heard clearly was 'tight' and made her muscles constrict even further, pushing herself to the limit. His hips were slapping almost painfully against her own, but she only let it press her determination harder as she gasped and emitted sounds freely into the air that she didn't even recognize. Her legs were starting to burn with the exertion and she could feel one drooping. The quake of the limb made its corresponding arm shake as well.

But she did not release the barre or give in, just like his eyes refused to let her go.

"_Higher_!" he demanded, throwing his head back as he drilled himself in and out of her at a quick and rough pace. Her shoulders smacked and rebounded off of the slicked surface of the mirror. "_Push_ those goddamn beautiful legs as far as they can... go!"

The knot in her gut was pulled taught. What she felt was building was... constricting instead of expanding. All of the heat was becoming more concentrated...!

She didn't stop. Her rear slid slightly against the wood as she strained her legs up to elevate further. And she squealed when he took his fingers to rise up and push on the inside of her knee, forcing her leg to keep height and shape.

"Nngh! Ahh-ahhh! F-Fakir!"

This was... beyond intense. The weight of him ramming into her over and over drove her wild inside and out. She could feel sweat on her heated body and collecting where his groin continually slammed into hers. The breathy gasps and grunts were all but constant from the both of them, mixing and staggering and becoming louder...

"Almost... there! _Ahiru_-!" he groaned her name, jerking himself in a slightly different angle that made her yelp, her hands slipping and sliding on the abused wooden barre to keep hold. "Hold... your form," he ground out through his teeth. "Let go... of the barre! Take my shoulders. _Now_!"

By this point, she could barely hear what he was even saying. His words were stunted and punctured by his gasping heaves for breath with each crashing and uncontrolled thrust, her hearing was drowned out by the frantic beating of her heart, and her mind just wasn't... taking everything in!

But she heard enough to follow through with that command. Both of her hands all but flew away from the wood they had been latched to until this point, blindly fumbling up and taking grip upon either of his shoulders and forcing the hold even when the skin was damp with perspiration. She felt almost delirious with the surges of raw, scorching heat that engulfed her from the inside out. Her body was trying to tell her something. She was... she was definitely reaching a limit - a limit she wasn't even familiar with!

Unsure, she parted her trembling lips as she tried to meet his eyes through her unstable vision. "I-I...! Fa...kir! I feel some-thing... I can't-!"

Faster than her jarred gaze could catch, he leaned in and _bit_ right into her ear, pulling a shriek from her throat. His breaths were short and shallow as he panted into the curve. "Not... yet. Not _yet_, dammit! Hold on until I _say_...!"

He didn't explain, but somehow Ahiru was sure that she understood. Already, she felt like she was hanging by just a thread on some high elevation, in danger of falling off in a moment's notice, but as long as he expected that she would hold out... she _would_.

Fakir's thrusts escalated to an extreme, moving so fast that Ahiru couldn't even tell when he was pulling in or pushing out anymore. His movements had no semblance of the usual control or impassive manner of actions he normally upheld. Everything about the man crashing his body haphazardly into her own and gripping at her for dear life was bared in a way she had never before witnessed. For the first time, he was not holding any part of himself back from her or shielding her protectively from something within himself.

And she took it all - all he had to give, all he had to take, all of _him_.

Then, with his fingers grasping her back and her leg so tightly that they were bound to leave marks, he gave one powerful thrust that reached too far within her for the redhead to even comprehend. She screeched and threw her head back, just as he boomed out in his own strained voice, "_LET __**GO**_!"

And she did. Whatever that tightness was within her gave way to something that she could only describe as an _explosion_ of sensations. Color and brightness burst to life before her eyes and drowned her vision out until she couldn't even register where she was or what was happening any longer.

The pleasure coursed through her like her own blood, feeding every organ within her body and making her figure convulse almost violently from the overload. She couldn't tell whether she was crying out or what Fakir was doing or saying or... anything. It was all blocked out and she was sent somewhere else altogether, left to be thrashed back and forth between cascades of ecstasy that curled and bound her, filling her relentlessly and pouring out of her at the exact same time.

Ahiru didn't even know how long it was that she was caught up in that storm of pleasing sensations, but she basked in it for all its worth. How amazing it felt wasn't even something she could put on par with any other feeling - it was all-consuming, all-encompassing...

Slowly, as the waves of it began to taper off, she could feel herself breathing hard, and a tiny jerk of the warm body against hers as a flood of something dripped down her legs. It took a few more moments of clinging and gasping for air before Ahiru realized that Fakir was no longer inside of her. He was draped over her and pressed tightly around her, but at some point, he must have pulled out.

She felt... fulfilled, though. And there was a lingering contentedness that mixed with the utter soreness of her limbs.

...There was also a mess between their legs and pooling down on the floor beneath the barre, but Ahiru turned her eyes away from that. Lifting one hand from his shoulder, she tucked her fingers beneath his hair to touch his face where he leaned half against the crook of her neck and half against the mirror. From his labored breaths, she could tell that he had exerted himself a lot, as well. And she could feel his chest pressing up against her breasts with every intake of air he gathered.

"Fa... kir?" she finally ventured in a small voice. He was all right, wasn't he?

The response wasn't immediately verbal, but she felt his grip on her leg, which was now bent over his hand and arm, release the underside of her knee to let the limb flop down and hang from the barre. He didn't move directly afterward and she hesitated, almost preparing to ask again-

And that was when he finally reared his head back and lifted it far enough to plant a lingering kiss to the corner of her lips, stealing what little breath she had gotten back. Ahiru felt her cheeks gain the instant warmth of a blush from the sudden gesture, despite all they had done so far and the fact that both of them were practically naked.

When he pulled away to look at her, there was a lazy smirk tugging at his own lips.

"...We're still going to have to work on your form and extensions more, idiot. They're sloppy and your transitions are awkward and sharp. I know you're capable of much _more_."

And those last words were filled with an unspoken promise that she could see reflected in the depths of his eyes: that _he_ was going to be the one to lead her every step of the way.

Ahiru shamelessly looked forward to it.

* * *

**A/N**: ...Dear god, I actually FINISHED it. My apologies for not having finished this one sooner (especially to the late birthday recipient). But I hope that the build-up and the smut was satisfactory enough? I did a little basic brush-up on ballet positions and such for this, but not a whole ton of research went into it. I have always wanted to write a ballet-related smut piece with them, though, so I'm glad that I was finally able to follow through with it. Also, on the bright side, it's the longest installment of _Behind Closed Doors_ yet!

I would greatly appreciate **_any_** feedback, good or bad, that you might have!

Also: **IMPORTANT**! I am thinking of possibly taking some smut requests for this fic in the future, as I have been a little bit strapped for ideas in this (that I haven't already used for RP purposes with friends). And I was wondering how you guys feel about things on the... kinkier side? I might take specifically kinky requests to write, as I shamelessly enjoy writing a little further outside of the safety box. _BUT_. If that would offend anyone or they wouldn't just be able to look over those chapters/be turned off of this fic entirely, _please let me know_! If enough people are bothered by the kink concept, I won't ask for those, so please give me your honest opinions!

If I DO go through with the above, the next "chapter" will be a guideline as to what I am doing and how to send requests, etc. Please do not send them in reviews or anything right now! I'd just like feedback on the suggestion, if possible.

That said, I thank you for reading and keeping up with this fic even with the gaps lately! You guys really give me the fuel to go on with these, even if it takes awhile for me to dredge up lost inspiration/motivation. I appreciate it a _more than I can say._


	8. IMPORTANT: REQUEST GUIDELINES

Hello, everyone! This chapter is not an actual chapter of the fic, I'm afraid.

Instead, this will be the...

SMUT REQUEST GUIDELINES. :)

That's right, I will be taking requests for kinks to write into fics that I will post into this story as one-shots. I am running a bit low on ideas (or saving them specifically for roleplay purposes), so I'm going to open requests!

**PAY ATTENTION, PLEASE. IF SUGGESTIONS/REQUESTS DO NOT FOLLOW THE RULES, **_**I WILL IGNORE THEM**_**.**

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**RULES AND GUIDELINES:**

1.) First of all, let me make one thing very clear: **I will not write something that has already been specifically done before (either by myself or another person). **

2.) You need to have a "kink" included if you wish to have your request considered. And please do not send me something like just "bondage". Be as specific as possible! And I will do things that are a bit more out there, but I will **NOT** do the following: _anything bathroom-related (watersports/etc), necrophilia, anal (I've never written this and have no desire to learn), hard vore or gore/mutilation/etc_. Aside from that? Go wild. I've written some things in the past (near and far) that would probably surprise you.

3.) _These will be Fakir/Ahiru __**only**_. That's what this fic is centered on and I will not take requests for ANY other couple. _Requests for other pairings or threesomes/orgies will be ignored_.

4.) I will not be able to do all requests. And I need to feel inspired to write something, so _please_ do not take it personally if you do not see your request filled.

5.) Please do **NOT** send me loads and loads of requests at a time. I don't mind if you send a few (since I'm picking and choosing on what I can write), but don't overdo it.

6.) I accept both Canon and Alternate Universe requests (be sure to tell me which yours is!). Though I admit that _Alternate Universe will be easier to deal with_, since in Canon, coming up with ways to get them involved in kinky things is not as easy when their backgrounds are already set in stone. Also, you may or may not expect some OOC (out of character) in these fics, especially considering that they will be kinky. And if you would specifically like to request something OOC or AU (ex: Black Prince!Fakir), please note that as well.

7.) Some fills may be PWP (porn without plot). I try to incorporate plot into my smut works, but when I'm doing requests like this, it might not be as easy to manage that in some cases. On that same note, please do not expect novels or huge fics. Sometimes I write longer, sometimes I write shorter. It all depends on how far the prompt takes me.

8.) _Please be patient_. Do not sent me numerous messages asking if I'm working on your prompt or if I've chosen one of yours, etc. When I post the fics, I will post the name of the requestee with them (unless they wish to remain anonymous-if that _**IS**_ the case, please let me know!).

9.) _I am more likely to work with requests that give me a setting/idea to use and expand upon_. I may tweak them if they don't work out to my liking, but I would like more than just a listed kink to work with - it really helps.

10.) _**Please do not forget that I write for fun and enjoyment**_. This is not a job to me and please do not place such expectations upon me. I am offering this as a courtesy to the readers and I am not bound to deadlines.

11.) **NO KINK-SHAMING WILL BE TOLERATED**. This is meant to be so people can request something they would like to see and not be judged for it. If I see you leaving a review that shames said person's request fill or makes some nasty comment or flame about how you hate it/think it's sick or disgusting, etc, _I will not take any requests from you whatsoever_. Period. There is a back button you can hit if the kink/prompt is not up your alley.

12.) _**SEND ALL REQUESTS TO ME BY PRIVATE MESSAGE. DO NOT POST IN REVIEWS OR OTHER WAYS. **_

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That's it. I don't ask a lot. I just want to be clear on what I need from the requests to make this a little easier on both me and you, okay?

Thanks and I hope you guys will give me some suggestions/requests to work with!

For now, _I will keep these requests open indefinitely_. However, if this becomes a problem, that may change. Like I asked, please do not send me and overload of like twenty ideas or something ridiculous. I don't mind a few (since I'm picking and choosing through what inspires me), but I really do not want massive inbox spam from the same person.

_I hope you have taken the time to read through this before you request _- I would greatly appreciate it. I don't want there to be any misconceptions on what I do and do not accept.

If you do have further questions, you can either leave them in review or send to me in PM. I also hope that the feedback for doing this will be positive. I understand that kinky things are not everyone's cup of tea, so I **WILL** warn what the kinks/requests are at the top of the fic. And if you do not like/agree with that kink, please just hit the back button or skip over that chapter.

Like I said above, there will be no kink-shaming and no flaming of anyone who requests things that you don't agree with. Please be considerate.

All clear? I hope so.

Thank you for taking the time to read through this and... well, let the Fakiru kink requests begin!

~Manda-chan


End file.
